Koa
Isn't it messed up,
How I'm just dying to be him?
How I'm just dying to be him?
Ok, so she's angry. Koa winces at her outrage, though his expression is more of wounded, hapless puppy than guilty, heartless cad. "Aw, c'mon Flora," the boy says, then raises his hands in apology, or perhaps to shield against her rage. "You're right. I'm sorry. You look incredible, by the way." He flashes her what he hopes is a charming grin, hopeful that (honest) flattery will be the way back into her good graces.
After all, they're different people than they were a year ago. Flora especially: Koa hasn't missed her confidence, is painfully aware of the way she carries herself. She's a grown-ass woman (to his young mind), and looking at her easily rekindles the memory of heat from their last rendezvous.
"Seems like it." Koa, too, has gone through changes. Gone are the last vestiges of baby fat, melted away from his cheeks, solidified on his arms, leaving rippling muscles visible beneath his short-sleeve shirt. Whatever anxiety he may have harbored over taking up his mother's role has been safely squashed away; he's doing well as a soldier, even if it doesn't exactly fulfil his soul. He's been a Dragoon for over a year now, and the confidence with which he wears his (admittedly unwashed) uniform shows as he takes the veiled insult in stride, reaching up to scratch Pip's chin.
"I mean - we'd be glad to have you. Though I hear you've got your hands full these days, running a bar and all." Koa raises his eyebrows playfully, giving her a once-over. "But hey, if you're here to try out- I've got a free morning. And I seem to remember you being pretty good at close combat."
And, idiot boy that he is, he winks.
After all, they're different people than they were a year ago. Flora especially: Koa hasn't missed her confidence, is painfully aware of the way she carries herself. She's a grown-ass woman (to his young mind), and looking at her easily rekindles the memory of heat from their last rendezvous.
"Seems like it." Koa, too, has gone through changes. Gone are the last vestiges of baby fat, melted away from his cheeks, solidified on his arms, leaving rippling muscles visible beneath his short-sleeve shirt. Whatever anxiety he may have harbored over taking up his mother's role has been safely squashed away; he's doing well as a soldier, even if it doesn't exactly fulfil his soul. He's been a Dragoon for over a year now, and the confidence with which he wears his (admittedly unwashed) uniform shows as he takes the veiled insult in stride, reaching up to scratch Pip's chin.
"I mean - we'd be glad to have you. Though I hear you've got your hands full these days, running a bar and all." Koa raises his eyebrows playfully, giving her a once-over. "But hey, if you're here to try out- I've got a free morning. And I seem to remember you being pretty good at close combat."
And, idiot boy that he is, he winks.
I'm just a notch in your bedpost,
but you're just a line in a song
but you're just a line in a song
