[ it's weird how in focusing on the weight of his own emotions, he misses any inkling of elysium's. he doesn't catch the way his eyes fall to his empty hands, for example, and so all he can do is release a small, pointed sigh.
when he's about to open his mouth to try and kill whatever tension may have existed in the air between them, he catches sight of a hand coming towards him. if it had been anyone else, he may have caught their wrist, and yet... he remains still. letting the fingers brush against his hair and almost instinctively he nods his head forward.
just a little.
and like catching himself in the midst of a misstep, he eventually brings a hand up to take hold of elysium's. it's not at all strong. ] Considering that mouth of yours, you're in luck if our discussions haven't escalated to anything physical.
[ he's still holding elysium's hand as he speaks.
does that count as physical? he seems to (comically) think about that as his eyes look back to their joined hands, before he shoots elysium his usual smile. ]
[ when it's been so long i can't remember what was happening
but, well, i guess we're doing lawless h*nd h*lding now. flicking his gaze briefly to their hands, almost instinctively, he twines their fingers together. he meets callisto's grip with effortless ease, like it's the most natural thing in the world. ]
Holding back on my account? [ a narrow of his eyes, and a more pointed smile. he tugs callisto a little closer. ] That isn't like you.
I'm just sparing the dogs the sight of your blood. [ he says this as if the words come easily to him. this probably isn't the grand joke he thinks it is. ... as it often isn't. still, he has a feeling that elysium could probably read between his empty threats.
or that's what he wants to believe when he can feel elysium's finger intertwine with his own. ]
[ he lets out the longest, most theatrical sigh. then, with all the casual detachment of someone far too tired to argue, he digs into his messenger bag, hand emerging with a mid-sized and unassuming box. plain, but clearly deliberate in its simplicity, he presses it firmly into callisto's chest without forewarning. ]
Your return gift.
[ unlike the stuffiez it will not be threat-coded. if he chooses to open it now, whether by releasing elysium's hand or managing it one-handed, he'll find an ornate switchblade nestled inside. it's unmistakably hand-crafted: solid wood and steel, no embellishments save for the clean lines of its construction. there's no maker's mark, not really, only the image of a lone bird etched at the base, wings spread mid-flight. ]
at his words, his lips remain in a slight quirk. unlike the usual smarmy smirk he's usually wearing, it's far closer to a genuine smile. is it a comfort to hear the man's quips as opposed to any usual hint of dishonesty he could have expected from literally anyone else? he isn't sure, but he feels like he comes just a little closer to understanding it before elysium drops a gift into his free hand.
while he's sure elysium would love him releasing his hand, he stubbornly doesn't let go.
he holds the box up to his mouth... and basically uses his teeth to pry it open. he drops the box on the floor, before he's just left with the knife in his hand. he isn't sure what his own expression looks like, and he's not all too curious. it'd be a lie to say that he wasn't affected by gestures like these, even coming from someone who should theoretically want nothing to do with him. despite how he acts, he isn't actually that obtuse. ]
Is this meant to be a metaphor? Or your desires? [ he flicks his wrist to expose the blade.
... and now it's a question of how he repays a gift to what wasn't really a gift??? ]
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when he's about to open his mouth to try and kill whatever tension may have existed in the air between them, he catches sight of a hand coming towards him. if it had been anyone else, he may have caught their wrist, and yet... he remains still. letting the fingers brush against his hair and almost instinctively he nods his head forward.
just a little.
and like catching himself in the midst of a misstep, he eventually brings a hand up to take hold of elysium's. it's not at all strong. ] Considering that mouth of yours, you're in luck if our discussions haven't escalated to anything physical.
[ he's still holding elysium's hand as he speaks.
does that count as physical? he seems to (comically) think about that as his eyes look back to their joined hands, before he shoots elysium his usual smile. ]
no subject
but, well, i guess we're doing lawless h*nd h*lding now. flicking his gaze briefly to their hands, almost instinctively, he twines their fingers together. he meets callisto's grip with effortless ease, like it's the most natural thing in the world. ]
Holding back on my account? [ a narrow of his eyes, and a more pointed smile. he tugs callisto a little closer. ] That isn't like you.
[ steers this back into ecats ]
no subject
I'm just sparing the dogs the sight of your blood. [ he says this as if the words come easily to him. this probably isn't the grand joke he thinks it is. ... as it often isn't. still, he has a feeling that elysium could probably read between his empty threats.
or that's what he wants to believe when he can feel elysium's finger intertwine with his own. ]
no subject
Yeah, yeah. How considerate of you.
[ he lets out the longest, most theatrical sigh. then, with all the casual detachment of someone far too tired to argue, he digs into his messenger bag, hand emerging with a mid-sized and unassuming box. plain, but clearly deliberate in its simplicity, he presses it firmly into callisto's chest without forewarning. ]
Your return gift.
[ unlike the stuffiez it will not be threat-coded. if he chooses to open it now, whether by releasing elysium's hand or managing it one-handed, he'll find an ornate switchblade nestled inside. it's unmistakably hand-crafted: solid wood and steel, no embellishments save for the clean lines of its construction. there's no maker's mark, not really, only the image of a lone bird etched at the base, wings spread mid-flight. ]
no subject
at his words, his lips remain in a slight quirk. unlike the usual smarmy smirk he's usually wearing, it's far closer to a genuine smile. is it a comfort to hear the man's quips as opposed to any usual hint of dishonesty he could have expected from literally anyone else? he isn't sure, but he feels like he comes just a little closer to understanding it before elysium drops a gift into his free hand.
while he's sure elysium would love him releasing his hand, he stubbornly doesn't let go.
he holds the box up to his mouth... and basically uses his teeth to pry it open. he drops the box on the floor, before he's just left with the knife in his hand. he isn't sure what his own expression looks like, and he's not all too curious. it'd be a lie to say that he wasn't affected by gestures like these, even coming from someone who should theoretically want nothing to do with him. despite how he acts, he isn't actually that obtuse. ]
Is this meant to be a metaphor? Or your desires? [ he flicks his wrist to expose the blade.
... and now it's a question of how he repays a gift to what wasn't really a gift??? ]