Isuma didn't understand why Rory wasn't happier to see her, turning her head and peeping up at him in concern when his smile was so small and sad. Setting herself to rights she turned to blink a welcome to her companion, sending her worry through the bond even as it echoed back. Jigano could see the hunter's ennui, and it tugged sharply at his heart that he hadn't come to visit sooner. Seeing that emptiness where warmth and laughter and tears and anger had once burned so brightly.
He set aside his own weariness, at least for the moment, and hoped his gesture would spark... something in his friend. A flash of humor, of annoyance, of emotion that he could tease and coax into a warm flame again. But Rory remained withdrawn, his spark banked and dulled even as the abandoned care for his appearance became clear now that the fox was so close.
As Rory's hand settled on his he had the urge - wild, impulsive, unfamiliar - to pull the hunter to his feet and into a tight embrace. To give him the comfort and support his gentle scratches had given to the fox for so many months. In some ways they had lost that closeness, and in others it had merely changed, no less then Jigano had done when he shifted from fox to man in the Infirmary.
"Will you introduce me to them, please?" he asked, his voice equally soft but warm as he looked up into Rory's blue eyes, seeing his own reflection in them and worrying all the more. "Esaia and I never met, formally. And I don't know if they'd recognize me... like this." He tilted his head in unconscious echo of Isuma, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He was achingly aware of the hand on his, skin to skin, warmth and calluses and the small knife Rory still held. Isuma, meanwhile, had turned to examine the piece of wood in the human's other hand, trying to take it in her beak and chew on it to see how it tasted.
He set aside his own weariness, at least for the moment, and hoped his gesture would spark... something in his friend. A flash of humor, of annoyance, of emotion that he could tease and coax into a warm flame again. But Rory remained withdrawn, his spark banked and dulled even as the abandoned care for his appearance became clear now that the fox was so close.
As Rory's hand settled on his he had the urge - wild, impulsive, unfamiliar - to pull the hunter to his feet and into a tight embrace. To give him the comfort and support his gentle scratches had given to the fox for so many months. In some ways they had lost that closeness, and in others it had merely changed, no less then Jigano had done when he shifted from fox to man in the Infirmary.
"Will you introduce me to them, please?" he asked, his voice equally soft but warm as he looked up into Rory's blue eyes, seeing his own reflection in them and worrying all the more. "Esaia and I never met, formally. And I don't know if they'd recognize me... like this." He tilted his head in unconscious echo of Isuma, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He was achingly aware of the hand on his, skin to skin, warmth and calluses and the small knife Rory still held. Isuma, meanwhile, had turned to examine the piece of wood in the human's other hand, trying to take it in her beak and chew on it to see how it tasted.
