[ Caelus pauses, a little tellingly, before he answers. There's something in his voice that almost sounds a little regretful over the way things turned out. ]
We didn't drink it. The others didn't want to. So they let me have it, and then... I put it in my room. Thought it would be a nice thing to remember you by.
[ Remember you by, he says, like he expected Luocha to be dead.
With a slight laugh that is more of a single exhaled breath, the Trailblazer claps Luocha's shoulder, as if in friendly reassurance, and then doesn't move his hands.
He thinks he likes this position. Luocha doesn't have the benefit of reading other cues from his body language, his expression. He can't do anything, can't predict what might come next. Can't do anything but listen to the warm and slightly deep rumble of Caelus's voice in the silent room, so soft and friendly and deceptively casual. Like he's just a friend, after so many days of enemies come to besiege him for the truth. ]
Yeah. Wasn't really expecting you to tell me anything. [ He shakes his head, with another slightly rueful smile in his voice. ] You're like that, anyway. Even if we weren't in an interrogation chamber, you'd be the same as you are now. You're really good at answering questions in a way where you don't have to say anything at all.
[ Something closer to animosity is rising to the surface of his voice now, compared to the eager obedience of days past, but Caelus has never been one to not wear his heart on his sleeve. If it were outright conflict he wanted, this wouldn't be the way he'd lead up to it. The gentle goading doesn't seem to have found its mark; he doesn't seem all that upset, or even all that bothered. He goes on talking in the same light tone, as if they're back in the lobby of the Petrichor again, chatting over drinks in the way that they never did.
He squeezes Luocha's shoulders. And then, impossibly, surely for no rational purpose at all — Caelus's thumbs start to work at the nape of Luocha's neck, rubbing at the inevitable knot of tension there, massaging him hard enough for it to hurt but to feel amazingly loose in the aftermath. ]
Actually, I'm not that mad about having to be here. I'm in trouble, yeah, with the Express and everyone else — but that's my own fault, not yours.
[ He leans forward, his voice low in the shell of Luocha's ear. ]
'Cause I really, really knew — really knew it was a bad idea to fuck you.
[ It's not entirely grammatical; he doesn't care. It's the best way to express that he knew full well what he was doing. ]
Liked it anyway, though. But I knew it was a horrible idea.
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We didn't drink it. The others didn't want to. So they let me have it, and then... I put it in my room. Thought it would be a nice thing to remember you by.
[ Remember you by, he says, like he expected Luocha to be dead.
With a slight laugh that is more of a single exhaled breath, the Trailblazer claps Luocha's shoulder, as if in friendly reassurance, and then doesn't move his hands.
He thinks he likes this position. Luocha doesn't have the benefit of reading other cues from his body language, his expression. He can't do anything, can't predict what might come next. Can't do anything but listen to the warm and slightly deep rumble of Caelus's voice in the silent room, so soft and friendly and deceptively casual. Like he's just a friend, after so many days of enemies come to besiege him for the truth. ]
Yeah. Wasn't really expecting you to tell me anything. [ He shakes his head, with another slightly rueful smile in his voice. ] You're like that, anyway. Even if we weren't in an interrogation chamber, you'd be the same as you are now. You're really good at answering questions in a way where you don't have to say anything at all.
[ Something closer to animosity is rising to the surface of his voice now, compared to the eager obedience of days past, but Caelus has never been one to not wear his heart on his sleeve. If it were outright conflict he wanted, this wouldn't be the way he'd lead up to it. The gentle goading doesn't seem to have found its mark; he doesn't seem all that upset, or even all that bothered. He goes on talking in the same light tone, as if they're back in the lobby of the Petrichor again, chatting over drinks in the way that they never did.
He squeezes Luocha's shoulders. And then, impossibly, surely for no rational purpose at all — Caelus's thumbs start to work at the nape of Luocha's neck, rubbing at the inevitable knot of tension there, massaging him hard enough for it to hurt but to feel amazingly loose in the aftermath. ]
Actually, I'm not that mad about having to be here. I'm in trouble, yeah, with the Express and everyone else — but that's my own fault, not yours.
[ He leans forward, his voice low in the shell of Luocha's ear. ]
'Cause I really, really knew — really knew it was a bad idea to fuck you.
[ It's not entirely grammatical; he doesn't care. It's the best way to express that he knew full well what he was doing. ]
Liked it anyway, though. But I knew it was a horrible idea.