[Aefenglom IC Inbox]

[judgementor]

"Leave a message. If it's important, I'll get back to you."

*beep*

Comments

[battlebound]

[ Because he's honestly just figuring out how to do it at all. Actions come a little easier, as misguided as some have clearly been, but they're Steak and Red Wine and they've never been defined by their consideration for each other.

And Steak was always too much like his Master Attendant, who swallowed his truths until he thought his fiancée died and even after all of it could only communicate in arguments.

Far too much like his Master Attendant.

Cold fingers brush his forehead and Steak's eyes open fully at the chill, staring at Red Wine with an unreadable expression, searching his deathly pale face for...

Something.

He's not sure what. ]

Will you?

[ It's surely getting close to the time the undead should be in bed anyway. ]

[judgementor]

[He leans back, straightens, then stands.]

In a little while.

[There's a need to call down properly first. To do something to soothe the thrum of adrenaline still coursing through his body. One day he's going to get hurt out there, but today wasn't that day.

It may not be that day tomorrow, either... but he doesn't doubt it will come soon.]

I'll let you get some rest.

[battlebound]

[ Of all the changes to Red Wine, Steak thinks this nocturnal behaviour may be the worst. It's no longer a simple dislike of the sun, or sensitivity to its brightness, but an actual imposition to their teamwork.

As he stands, Steak's hand shifts, reaching for Red Wine's and squeezing it. A brief, firm touch, the same thing which has calmed him since their bond was made official in this city. The only reassurance he can give Red Wine right now. ]

Good night.

[judgementor]

Hmn.

[A warm drink, maybe.

He squeezes Steak's hand in turn, and he holds the back of it to his chest as he leans down and touches his lips to the spot where he'd brushed those hairs aside only moments earlier.

An impulse answered. Red Wine has precious few impulses these days that aren't dangerous in some way, and this soft one is quickly followed.]

Good night.

[battlebound]

[ If Red Wine's cold fingers were enough to stir Steak into wakefulness, the brief touch of lips to his forehead has him frozen but for a small noise of shock which escapes his mouth.

What... just happened?

Perhaps it's good for Red Wine that it's also enough to loosen Steak's grip on his hand, giving him a moment to slip away.

And perhaps, by the time he wakes up, Steak will have convinced himself that there's no way it could have ever happened. ]