[ as he backs up into the mattress and sits down, cooperatively, holding up his injured hand, cooperatively. the look he gives zetes is just shy of doe-eyed, effect increased by the unconscious tilt of his head. ]
And not at all like Laura Ingalls Wilder in drag.
[ maybe it's not the right place for a joke, at least not from him; sometimes he misjudges that, although usually not with zetes. he just wants to skip the part where they Talk about what was bothering him, because it's always something. it's always going to be something, unless someone invents a cure for psionic disorders. even then, despite all his yelling that he'd kick this out of his brain in a heartbeat, he doesn't really know if he would. it's part of him, and moreover it ties him and zetes together in a way nothing else would, and nobody else would understand.
he steers that train of thought directly off the tracks for the moment, reaching out deliberately for the shimmering edges of zetes' emotions, the murkier undercurrent of worry subsumed in the desire to care for him. it washes over him like - he can't help thinking this - sunlight breaking through clouds, and he lets his eyes close for a few seconds. apparently that's more important than whether or not his audience is receptive to his particular brand of humor.
like an echo of zetes' previous look, he smiles again when he opens his eyes. ]
Hey.
[ accompanying this with toeing zetes' ankle with a socked foot: ]
I love you. You know that, right?
[ this is i promise not to go anywhere in code, he's just. not going to say that out loud. ]
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[ as he backs up into the mattress and sits down, cooperatively, holding up his injured hand, cooperatively. the look he gives zetes is just shy of doe-eyed, effect increased by the unconscious tilt of his head. ]
And not at all like Laura Ingalls Wilder in drag.
[ maybe it's not the right place for a joke, at least not from him; sometimes he misjudges that, although usually not with zetes. he just wants to skip the part where they Talk about what was bothering him, because it's always something. it's always going to be something, unless someone invents a cure for psionic disorders. even then, despite all his yelling that he'd kick this out of his brain in a heartbeat, he doesn't really know if he would. it's part of him, and moreover it ties him and zetes together in a way nothing else would, and nobody else would understand.
he steers that train of thought directly off the tracks for the moment, reaching out deliberately for the shimmering edges of zetes' emotions, the murkier undercurrent of worry subsumed in the desire to care for him. it washes over him like - he can't help thinking this - sunlight breaking through clouds, and he lets his eyes close for a few seconds. apparently that's more important than whether or not his audience is receptive to his particular brand of humor.
like an echo of zetes' previous look, he smiles again when he opens his eyes. ]
Hey.
[ accompanying this with toeing zetes' ankle with a socked foot: ]
I love you. You know that, right?
[ this is i promise not to go anywhere in code, he's just. not going to say that out loud. ]