[ Underneath it all, he feels tetchy. Like Jesper, when he isn't shooting or gambling. Like he has too much energy but no way in which to dispel it. It's strange for him, because he's never been one to get worked up, always able to bend his focus to the tasks at hand.
The problem is there aren't any tasks.
There's just him and her and all the words that have passed between them and he can't top his mind from cycling through so many images. Ones that had only existed in dreams, in the middle of night. Ones whose vestiges only clung for as long as it took him to wash off in the morning and box it up, put it to the side.
(Of course, he had gotten less and less good at that as time had gone on. As he'd gotten closer to Inej).
So when she rolls over, he tenses a bit, attempting to school his face into something neutral, less revealing. ]
Didn't know I could distract you so easily. [ Not that he would've ever used this knowledge before. As it is, the words barely make it out with the levity he intends. ]
no subject
The problem is there aren't any tasks.
There's just him and her and all the words that have passed between them and he can't top his mind from cycling through so many images. Ones that had only existed in dreams, in the middle of night. Ones whose vestiges only clung for as long as it took him to wash off in the morning and box it up, put it to the side.
(Of course, he had gotten less and less good at that as time had gone on. As he'd gotten closer to Inej).
So when she rolls over, he tenses a bit, attempting to school his face into something neutral, less revealing. ]
Didn't know I could distract you so easily. [ Not that he would've ever used this knowledge before. As it is, the words barely make it out with the levity he intends. ]