[ Ha, right and satisfying (also not-so-satisfying), draw away that hand. It feels good (also not-good, also a little twinging) to watch her retreat. To know she won’t be able to say… Come morning she won’t be able to say… Something about how he’d been silly enough to think her touch (she did touch him, didn’t she?) fond.
He starts to open his mouth, meaning to say that Wallace doesn’t sleep, but Treavor doesn’t need to tell her any such thing. She hasn’t earned the information. She doesn’t need to know. Wallace is outside her jurisdiction.
So never mind about that and he starts to forget about that, but the impulse to speak remains, and he’s certain he has something important to get across. After all, if she can shower her words over everything, he might be permitted a few of his own.
He doesn’t care much for this chair. Shifts against it irritably. Who decided this was a suitable chair?
And why is… is that her hand which he sees before him? Again he huffs a ragged sound. ]
No. I don’t have anything for you.
[ A filtering in as he tries to watch her, something she said, something she asked. A… hand extended. An offer, yes, that was it, she wants to go to his room, she said!
…Not for that, she said.
What the fuck else for. All this shoving her way into his rooms, and to what end?
It’s too much to think about.
Instead, he points at her hand, his own finger unsteady. ]
no subject
He starts to open his mouth, meaning to say that Wallace doesn’t sleep, but Treavor doesn’t need to tell her any such thing. She hasn’t earned the information. She doesn’t need to know. Wallace is outside her jurisdiction.
So never mind about that and he starts to forget about that, but the impulse to speak remains, and he’s certain he has something important to get across. After all, if she can shower her words over everything, he might be permitted a few of his own.
He doesn’t care much for this chair. Shifts against it irritably. Who decided this was a suitable chair?
And why is… is that her hand which he sees before him? Again he huffs a ragged sound. ]
No. I don’t have anything for you.
[ A filtering in as he tries to watch her, something she said, something she asked. A… hand extended. An offer, yes, that was it, she wants to go to his room, she said!
…Not for that, she said.
What the fuck else for. All this shoving her way into his rooms, and to what end?
It’s too much to think about.
Instead, he points at her hand, his own finger unsteady. ]
Why.
I know what you do want. Don't want.
Ha.