( it's said through a wry haze, bemusement leaking through his tone--his eyes are on the monitor, now, instead of trying to scrutinize the minute little changes in tseng's countenance, something that he learned to do in his youth; he'd spent hours upon hours of useless meetings just trying to crack the expensive code of tseng's smooth expression, noting each and every little twitch and shift and crease of his brow. now, it's more of a game than a necessity: however minor, what emotions can he see, bleeding through the sharp turn of his gaze, the lift of his chin, the purse of his lips? once glance up from the screen tells him just enough: he's gotten much better at this game than he would likely admit.
tseng, it seems, is warring with decisions. warring with his place. warring with the blood smeared onto his own gloved hand, and the blood that's mirrored over dark nation's muzzle and his own jacket, dotted and splotched across his cheek and the corner of his mouth. he would find it charming, any other night: but the reports tabbed up on his screen make his head hurt, so late at night, and he's recalling again why he left to take the walk in the first place.
it doesn't matter. the work will still be there come morning, once he's had a fresh change of clothes, coffee, and hopefully a bit of sleep. with a resigned exhale, he nudges a clean knuckle against the monitor's power button to put it to sleep again. )
You know that a little blood doesn't bother me. ( mostly a tease, accompanied by a little flick of his brow upward: he abandons the desk, nudging the chair in with his hip to keep it blood-free; dark nation's ears perk up, drawn by the sound, but as he rounds on his desk, she doesn't seek to move between them, padding and settling into an undignified lump down behind tseng's legs. it seems she'll rest there to catch her breath as they deliberate. )
Do you have no intention of following through? ( countered with another wry smile, as he begins to close the space between them again, slow and measured, like he has nowhere else to be.
truthfully, he doesn't. a lonely, sprawling suite up on the top floor of the building is waiting for him: or waiting for them, if he plays his cards right. )
I'd like a bath. ( now that there's less space between them, it's easier to feel for tseng's nuances; his own lips press together against a smile. ) I'd like it if you joined me.
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she is truly the best girl
Date: 2024-12-01 10:46 pm (UTC)( it's said through a wry haze, bemusement leaking through his tone--his eyes are on the monitor, now, instead of trying to scrutinize the minute little changes in tseng's countenance, something that he learned to do in his youth; he'd spent hours upon hours of useless meetings just trying to crack the expensive code of tseng's smooth expression, noting each and every little twitch and shift and crease of his brow. now, it's more of a game than a necessity: however minor, what emotions can he see, bleeding through the sharp turn of his gaze, the lift of his chin, the purse of his lips? once glance up from the screen tells him just enough: he's gotten much better at this game than he would likely admit.
tseng, it seems, is warring with decisions. warring with his place. warring with the blood smeared onto his own gloved hand, and the blood that's mirrored over dark nation's muzzle and his own jacket, dotted and splotched across his cheek and the corner of his mouth. he would find it charming, any other night: but the reports tabbed up on his screen make his head hurt, so late at night, and he's recalling again why he left to take the walk in the first place.
it doesn't matter. the work will still be there come morning, once he's had a fresh change of clothes, coffee, and hopefully a bit of sleep. with a resigned exhale, he nudges a clean knuckle against the monitor's power button to put it to sleep again. )
You know that a little blood doesn't bother me. ( mostly a tease, accompanied by a little flick of his brow upward: he abandons the desk, nudging the chair in with his hip to keep it blood-free; dark nation's ears perk up, drawn by the sound, but as he rounds on his desk, she doesn't seek to move between them, padding and settling into an undignified lump down behind tseng's legs. it seems she'll rest there to catch her breath as they deliberate. )
Do you have no intention of following through? ( countered with another wry smile, as he begins to close the space between them again, slow and measured, like he has nowhere else to be.
truthfully, he doesn't. a lonely, sprawling suite up on the top floor of the building is waiting for him: or waiting for them, if he plays his cards right. )
I'd like a bath. ( now that there's less space between them, it's easier to feel for tseng's nuances; his own lips press together against a smile. ) I'd like it if you joined me.