He’s tried touch in the past. Not often, admittedly, but he has. Stripping his gloves off wholesale at fourteen to wrangle drunkards and crooks had been, admittedly, an impossibly foolish idea that had left him in a panic attack. The next time with Inej, her hand briefly touching his face and then him kissing her neck, those had him battling desire against revulsion, but he hadn’t been driven out of his mind. He’s running through the scenarios in his mind all throughout the day, picking apart what he already knows are the distinctions. What he’s trying with Birdie is happening somewhere safe, and with someone he trusts.
With someone he wants to touch.
He wants to get better, to heal, and while this first step is causing his stomach to summersault the closer the hour approaches, he’s also determined enough not to back out.
The day has been busy but not overwhelming in another way. Standard by his measure, which is good, because he’s not approaching her room already upset. He’s wearing one of his suits, something he feels at home in, and his trusted cane clacking on the ground is enough to announce his presence. The familiar voice of Birdie sings out to him to enter, he can’t separate musicality from her even when she’s just speaking. That might be a construct of his mind, it might not, but it makes him smile a little with the familiarity of it. He flexes his fingers and opens the door, stepping inside and then shutting the door behind him with the end of his cane.
Glancing around, he takes in the space and what the few things are that she’s done with it. It’s not overly done up, but then, they lead busy lives in the Slat. The air is scented with her however, and the soft pillows and spots of color seem fitting. The Slat is an anchor for him, but so is the woman in the space right now. Funny, perhaps, given how fleeting she could be by her admittance, but she’s a steady presence for him. “I like what you’ve not really done with the place,” he says by way of teasing, moving to stand near her. “Are we sitting on the floor? I’m all right with that.” It’s easy enough to stretch out his leg, and she’s definitely got enough pillows for it.
TY for starting!
With someone he wants to touch.
He wants to get better, to heal, and while this first step is causing his stomach to summersault the closer the hour approaches, he’s also determined enough not to back out.
The day has been busy but not overwhelming in another way. Standard by his measure, which is good, because he’s not approaching her room already upset. He’s wearing one of his suits, something he feels at home in, and his trusted cane clacking on the ground is enough to announce his presence. The familiar voice of Birdie sings out to him to enter, he can’t separate musicality from her even when she’s just speaking. That might be a construct of his mind, it might not, but it makes him smile a little with the familiarity of it. He flexes his fingers and opens the door, stepping inside and then shutting the door behind him with the end of his cane.
Glancing around, he takes in the space and what the few things are that she’s done with it. It’s not overly done up, but then, they lead busy lives in the Slat. The air is scented with her however, and the soft pillows and spots of color seem fitting. The Slat is an anchor for him, but so is the woman in the space right now. Funny, perhaps, given how fleeting she could be by her admittance, but she’s a steady presence for him. “I like what you’ve not really done with the place,” he says by way of teasing, moving to stand near her. “Are we sitting on the floor? I’m all right with that.” It’s easy enough to stretch out his leg, and she’s definitely got enough pillows for it.