Bart barks a laugh immediately when El - newly named, by the way - is so hilariously upfront about their impending cradling. Sass is the fastest way to his unbearably well-guarded heart, so he regards them with a toothy grin. “You’re not wrong. Good to meet’cha El. I’m Bartholomew.” Just as protective and choosey about his name, he hesitates and searches their face for a few moments. They’re being incredibly vulnerable with him, trusting him this way. It feels wrong not to do the same, and he hopes his face (which hasn’t heard of a poker face in its life) will express that he’s trying to be open as well when he offers, “But, uh. You can call me Bart. Or Bartie.” He thinks that Sunjata and Melita are the only two living souls left who have the privilege of that nickname, but Nate would kill him if he shut himself away for good from the people in this world and simply rotted away.
El moves a little too fast, clearly determined if in the wrong way, and Bart’s strong arms are quick steel traps that curl back around them for support the moment they choke and flail. “Hey, hey, it’s not a race okay? You don’t gotta fling yerself. I can hold ya at almost any angle.” It’s hard not to use modern-world idioms because nobody ever understands them in Caido, so he swallows them down.
They seem to get the idea themself anyway at least, and within moments they’re on their back, floating just above the bend in Bart’s elbows. Seeing they’re tense, he takes most of their weight into his arms so that they can relax into his hold, floating higher so the water isn’t creeping near their face. From above, he beams down at them. “There ya go! You did it!” And any previous sign of grumpiness is a distant memory with the clear pride and excitement in his tone. “Now I want ya to relax as much as ya can. Like, total limp noodle. I’ve got my arms under ya, so trust me y’ain’t goin’ anywhere - and I’m gonna slowly spin us so you’ll feel what it’s like to bob around.” And the motion will help keep El out of their head and away from their fear. He only starts after he has warned them, slow little motions that have the slight ripples of waves brushing over El’s shoulders as Bart moves them around. “Now that you don’t have to worry about goin’ under, I want ya to focus on how you go a little deeper in the water naturally when you exhale and then float back up when you inhale. Yer lungs are like -” fuck does Caido have balloons? Or even helium? “- like little cloud spiders. Even if y’ain’t holdin’ all the air you can there, you’ll float naturally if her calm and in the right pose. Hell, you can even float on your back almost forever if you keep yerself breathin’ slow and just usin’ yer hands and feet to paddle.” Maybe that will make them feel a little less frightened to know that they could float (in shallow water of course) almost indefinitely. Treading water would be safer of course, but that’s a few lessons ahead.
No, Bart isn’t thinking about future lessons. Shut up.
“I’m gonna hold ya and do these circles, and we’re just gonna talk. Get ya comfortable with floatin’ and lettin’ me hold ya.” Because Bart’s gonna assume that’s equally weird for them. “So uh, at risk of soundin’ like every low-bar-chasin’ loser on a first date, tell me about yerself. Jabber away.” Eventually he’ll start to brace El less and less, but he’s in no rush. This has been nicer than he could’ve anticipated.
El moves a little too fast, clearly determined if in the wrong way, and Bart’s strong arms are quick steel traps that curl back around them for support the moment they choke and flail. “Hey, hey, it’s not a race okay? You don’t gotta fling yerself. I can hold ya at almost any angle.” It’s hard not to use modern-world idioms because nobody ever understands them in Caido, so he swallows them down.
They seem to get the idea themself anyway at least, and within moments they’re on their back, floating just above the bend in Bart’s elbows. Seeing they’re tense, he takes most of their weight into his arms so that they can relax into his hold, floating higher so the water isn’t creeping near their face. From above, he beams down at them. “There ya go! You did it!” And any previous sign of grumpiness is a distant memory with the clear pride and excitement in his tone. “Now I want ya to relax as much as ya can. Like, total limp noodle. I’ve got my arms under ya, so trust me y’ain’t goin’ anywhere - and I’m gonna slowly spin us so you’ll feel what it’s like to bob around.” And the motion will help keep El out of their head and away from their fear. He only starts after he has warned them, slow little motions that have the slight ripples of waves brushing over El’s shoulders as Bart moves them around. “Now that you don’t have to worry about goin’ under, I want ya to focus on how you go a little deeper in the water naturally when you exhale and then float back up when you inhale. Yer lungs are like -” fuck does Caido have balloons? Or even helium? “- like little cloud spiders. Even if y’ain’t holdin’ all the air you can there, you’ll float naturally if her calm and in the right pose. Hell, you can even float on your back almost forever if you keep yerself breathin’ slow and just usin’ yer hands and feet to paddle.” Maybe that will make them feel a little less frightened to know that they could float (in shallow water of course) almost indefinitely. Treading water would be safer of course, but that’s a few lessons ahead.
No, Bart isn’t thinking about future lessons. Shut up.
“I’m gonna hold ya and do these circles, and we’re just gonna talk. Get ya comfortable with floatin’ and lettin’ me hold ya.” Because Bart’s gonna assume that’s equally weird for them. “So uh, at risk of soundin’ like every low-bar-chasin’ loser on a first date, tell me about yerself. Jabber away.” Eventually he’ll start to brace El less and less, but he’s in no rush. This has been nicer than he could’ve anticipated.
bartie
