[ ...don't talk about scolding him wearing nothing, mithrun— this poor man. now that image is going to sit in the back of his head for the foreseeable future, slowly eating away at his subconscious. on top of that, the stockings will probably have their own feature, honestly. anyway— storing that away for a more quiet evening.
for the time being, there are more pressing matters than mithrun's state of dress (or undress, considering).
the elf seems to relax— but he's still not fully sure why laios was mentioned (and so— snappishly? interesting), he's also not even sure why he's being scolded in the first place. still, mithrun seems to have put this aside, and kabru stands too, murmuring a quick here, let me, and gently taking the cake box out of the elf's hands. ]
Hold onto the jacket instead. [ he shifts the cake over to one hand, and tugs the corners of his jacket closer around mithrun, hiding— well. not hiding much. but it's better than seeing him go around in that state.
he frowns at the elf, but nods, seeming reluctant to move too far away from him. there's something about this place too, kabru has noticed— it started to sneak in when he first saw mithrun here. a baseline simmer of wanting for something; of wanting to curl the elf closer. it must be the stress, he decides, but slides a hand against mithrun's shoulder blade anyway, more as an anchor for himself, than as one for mithrun. mechanically, mithrun had gripped his hand in the dungeon— kabru finds himself wanting to return the gesture here.
as they move towards the door, that hand is removed from mithrun's shoulder, and held out towards him, palm up. blue eyes meet black.
no subject
for the time being, there are more pressing matters than mithrun's state of dress (or undress, considering).
the elf seems to relax— but he's still not fully sure why laios was mentioned (and so— snappishly? interesting), he's also not even sure why he's being scolded in the first place. still, mithrun seems to have put this aside, and kabru stands too, murmuring a quick here, let me, and gently taking the cake box out of the elf's hands. ]
Hold onto the jacket instead. [ he shifts the cake over to one hand, and tugs the corners of his jacket closer around mithrun, hiding— well. not hiding much. but it's better than seeing him go around in that state.
he frowns at the elf, but nods, seeming reluctant to move too far away from him. there's something about this place too, kabru has noticed— it started to sneak in when he first saw mithrun here. a baseline simmer of wanting for something; of wanting to curl the elf closer. it must be the stress, he decides, but slides a hand against mithrun's shoulder blade anyway, more as an anchor for himself, than as one for mithrun. mechanically, mithrun had gripped his hand in the dungeon— kabru finds himself wanting to return the gesture here.
as they move towards the door, that hand is removed from mithrun's shoulder, and held out towards him, palm up. blue eyes meet black.
there. an offer. ]
Let's go?