Overdramatic? I'm only mirroring our esteemed merchants.
[ The great businessmen of Kerch. A bunch of thieves, just like the gangs that run rampant in the Barrel. He finds it particularly amusing.
There's also the added bonus of it allowing him to be bundled up. Sure, he might get questioning stares when he's wearing a suit into the humid summer, but it's less judgment or questions than if he were to don long sleeves and trousers all year round. At least this is part of a specific look. One that keeps him from brushing against anyone's skin as much as possible.
A comfortable silence settles between them and for a bit, he continues picking at his food, watching the lanterns dim and the candles go out in the windows of the Barrel. West Stave is still in a full swing, a riot of lights in a darkened city.
Inej breaks the quiet, just a bit, her voice barely heard. I'm glad I met you. He doesn't know what to do with that information. This isn't what he'd good with: reciprocating feelings. That soft farm boy filters in, eager to say he feels the same way. He crushes that impulse. It has no place here.
Because while he understands her sentiment, he doesn't want it. It fills him with a spike of dread; she's too good to be here. To good to be associating with someone like him. She should be flying high above the rest of them with nice clothes and shoes, with a future that doesn't involve slitting throats. ]
You say that now.
[ It's been almost two years since he'd gotten her out of the Menagerie. But he's still capable of doing something monstrous enough to drive her away. ]
no subject
[ The great businessmen of Kerch. A bunch of thieves, just like the gangs that run rampant in the Barrel. He finds it particularly amusing.
There's also the added bonus of it allowing him to be bundled up. Sure, he might get questioning stares when he's wearing a suit into the humid summer, but it's less judgment or questions than if he were to don long sleeves and trousers all year round. At least this is part of a specific look. One that keeps him from brushing against anyone's skin as much as possible.
A comfortable silence settles between them and for a bit, he continues picking at his food, watching the lanterns dim and the candles go out in the windows of the Barrel. West Stave is still in a full swing, a riot of lights in a darkened city.
Inej breaks the quiet, just a bit, her voice barely heard. I'm glad I met you. He doesn't know what to do with that information. This isn't what he'd good with: reciprocating feelings. That soft farm boy filters in, eager to say he feels the same way. He crushes that impulse. It has no place here.
Because while he understands her sentiment, he doesn't want it. It fills him with a spike of dread; she's too good to be here. To good to be associating with someone like him. She should be flying high above the rest of them with nice clothes and shoes, with a future that doesn't involve slitting throats. ]
You say that now.
[ It's been almost two years since he'd gotten her out of the Menagerie. But he's still capable of doing something monstrous enough to drive her away. ]