He likes the way fingers lock down in his hair, aching.
He likes the way that diminutive name hits: stellula, and it's not the first time he's been called star, but it's the first time he's enjoyed it for exactly what it promises: that despite the yawning loneliness of his not-quite-as-long-as-formerly-professed life, someone isn't tolerating him for a selfish, unspoken cause. They're just tolerating him.
Which is all part of this, too.
(And maybe, blown back in the face of shit-poor odds, someone might even— )]
You try again.
[Snap— the quick click of his teeth catching around those syllables when he grins like a flipped card in the last round of Wicked Grace, fingertips busy shoving back against the dead center of Fenris' chest.]
Who says I was trying to compliment you? [And in his defense (it's not a defense), it's still a day for truths, apparently:]
I save all my flattery for the people I actually need to win over.
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He likes the way fingers lock down in his hair, aching.
He likes the way that diminutive name hits: stellula, and it's not the first time he's been called star, but it's the first time he's enjoyed it for exactly what it promises: that despite the yawning loneliness of his not-quite-as-long-as-formerly-professed life, someone isn't tolerating him for a selfish, unspoken cause. They're just tolerating him.
Which is all part of this, too.
(And maybe, blown back in the face of shit-poor odds, someone might even— )]
You try again.
[Snap— the quick click of his teeth catching around those syllables when he grins like a flipped card in the last round of Wicked Grace, fingertips busy shoving back against the dead center of Fenris' chest.]
Who says I was trying to compliment you? [And in his defense (it's not a defense), it's still a day for truths, apparently:]
I save all my flattery for the people I actually need to win over.