sons could be birds,
taken broken up to the mountain
taken broken up to the mountain
The hand on his elbow is unexpected. More the sudden movement, but maybe the weight of contact. Nathaniel freezes, the muscle in his arm all tensing at once. He doesn't send his elbow smashing into Adam's nose, a level of restraint and self-awareness Nathaniel would never have counted on. Instead, he jerks away and turns to face Adam again, each movement stiff and deliberate, a dog with its hackles up.
"I'm not attracted to you," he snaps. It isn't anger, exactly, in the words, but something else. A weird intensiy, like the energy in a rubberband pulled just too far. Nathaniel's eyes are dark and unfriendly suddenly, though he is trying to calm himself down. Difficult when he isn't even sure what he feels. Afraid? Surprised? Some small, reptilian thing in the back of his head is hammering on him and he has no idea what it wants, but he should go away.
He stares at the Outlander.
He doesn't hear everything Adam says.
Or — he does, but it doesn't penetrate the (small) thinking portion of his brain for some time. Then his face does something like a spasm, and he barks out an odd, derisive laugh. "No," he says, but his tone is softening. "Nobody lives with me. Not even people I like. You're an Outlander, what would even pay me with?" Eyes raking the man up and down. "I thought you could handle yourself?"
Meanwhile, his thoughts do some sort of haphazard, directionless calculating. No one lives with him, but no one has asked. The only reason Nathaniel can think of for Adam to ask is that he will some day soon wake up to find most of his more valuable belongings missing, and the Outlander impossible to find.
"I'm not attracted to you," he snaps. It isn't anger, exactly, in the words, but something else. A weird intensiy, like the energy in a rubberband pulled just too far. Nathaniel's eyes are dark and unfriendly suddenly, though he is trying to calm himself down. Difficult when he isn't even sure what he feels. Afraid? Surprised? Some small, reptilian thing in the back of his head is hammering on him and he has no idea what it wants, but he should go away.
He stares at the Outlander.
He doesn't hear everything Adam says.
Or — he does, but it doesn't penetrate the (small) thinking portion of his brain for some time. Then his face does something like a spasm, and he barks out an odd, derisive laugh. "No," he says, but his tone is softening. "Nobody lives with me. Not even people I like. You're an Outlander, what would even pay me with?" Eyes raking the man up and down. "I thought you could handle yourself?"
Meanwhile, his thoughts do some sort of haphazard, directionless calculating. No one lives with him, but no one has asked. The only reason Nathaniel can think of for Adam to ask is that he will some day soon wake up to find most of his more valuable belongings missing, and the Outlander impossible to find.
