[ there is a tight clench and then release around her heart. better hold onto this one, Sprezzatura, through all the good. and bad, because whatever horrors he's committed, at least he's committed to this, too.
her swallow is so thick you can nearly hear it... but something finally wrenches back into place ]
You cannot renounce on deals with devils, you know.
[He gives her the moment she needs to let that settle. Henry wonders if it can provide a small amount of comfort, a connection wrought with permanence, one that Solitary cannot erase, one that exists even if they are flung to opposite ends of the universe, back to where they came.
[ how can she even tell what a comfort is anymore? it just feels like an ache. like her heart is throbbing up in her throat, words she doesn't understand bubbling behind her lips. when every connection she forms seems like it eventually breaks, promises don't mean much—or they shouldn't.
this one does, though.
reaching across the table for his hand. she's a touchy woman. you already know this about her. ]
[Yes, he does. And he can be, too — always reaching for the face, the chin. But this time, Henry merely glances down at his hand when she clasps it. His fingers flex slightly in her hold before he returns his look to Sprezzatura.
Something’s shifted in her. She’s made her decision about the bonds formed in this place. Henry, too, is on the precipice of that, though not quite far enough to have fallen past that point of no return. Not yet.]
So you’ve decided. Well… you’re one step ahead of me when it comes to most of the rest of this place.
[ it only lasts for a moment. she's too into her cups to endure the feeling of reaching out to someone who doesn't reach back, and that's so often been the issue. her hand withdraws and disappears beneath the table to grip at her own knee ]
I do not feel ahead. I feel like I am chasing something moved on without me.
[He didn't mind the touch. But she retracts it just as soon as she offers it, and paired with her words, Henry's brows scrunch a little.]
What? Me?
[He hasn't denied her of anything. He certainly doesn't recall as much. Flashes of that time in the diner spring to his mind. Maybe he's being too presumptuous, but-]
You made it clear you weren't interested in me like that.
[ who are already gone, and those who could not find my indecision bearable, or something like that; maybe it's a feeling based in nothing but her own sense of loss, and it has no bearing on reality. he flows into that second bit before she can formulate any of this. always speaking without thinking about it first, that's her.
[Sprezzatura, without taking a trip into your head, Henry Creel is not emotionally equipped to parse what you want. It feels like, despite everything he’s said, he’s lacking somehow — but he cannot cross a certain threshold like the one from that day, or she becomes too gun-shy.
And so fresh after telling her the truth? About how many he’s killed? How does he know how much is too much, olive branch or otherwise?]
[ girl you think it's any clearer on the inside? all she knows is that she doesn't want to push him away so far that he won't return, despite the warning signs.
That doesn’t matter. Listen to what I have to say.
[Her state, with too much drink in her veins, has no bearing on his side of this equation.]
Nothing’s changed between us. What I’ve said before, how we’re connected by our similarities, you think that bond’s so fickle to fade away just because you’ve been upset at me once or twice?
[He hated the strings connecting himself to the rest of this prison when he realized what they truly meant for him. But now, they at least prove that there is always someone… there. That they aren’t truly alone.]
her eyes get kinda shiny for a moment, and she clears her throat gruffly. and just... wends her arms around him, clumsily, chin slotted in over his shoulder ]
Ah, well. Henry is not a touchy-feely person in this sense. Hugs are foreign objects to him, and he reacts—at first—very much accordingly. Still and with his head craning down at an angle, trying to gauge at an expression he can’t clearly see.
But finally, as though his body were finally catching up to his mind, an arm drapes around her middle. His poor friend, always so overwrought.]
You’re warm. [He teases, airily.] Don’t tell me that’s all alcohol.
Only some. [ a defense mutter. she can feel the... not tension, but blankness of his posture, the lack of reaction. she's about to pull away when his arm moves around her; the blank stillness settles into her, too. a beat. two. she reaches down to pull his other arm across as well. ] You are meant to use both arms.
[ a tiny, tiny mutter into his shoulder. she does have that vibe to her; secure and warm. like a little space heater in the shape of a little woman. she'd add her tail to push that claim further, but... maybe that's too intimate for what they share ]
[The tail! This is growth, clearly. He would find it a strange sensation if he were not once connected to a million tendrils in the Upside Down, but that’s hardly worth mentioning right now.
Instead, he lets her rest against him in that complete hug, for however long she likes.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Instead, he can offer something else.]
How about I promise you something?
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Hmn?
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No matter how bad the storm is.
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her swallow is so thick you can nearly hear it... but something finally wrenches back into place ]
You cannot renounce on deals with devils, you know.
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It does for Henry, in a way.]
I wouldn't dream of it, anyway.
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[ how can she even tell what a comfort is anymore? it just feels like an ache. like her heart is throbbing up in her throat, words she doesn't understand bubbling behind her lips. when every connection she forms seems like it eventually breaks, promises don't mean much—or they shouldn't.
this one does, though.
reaching across the table for his hand. she's a touchy woman. you already know this about her. ]
You were right. I need these bonds.
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Something’s shifted in her. She’s made her decision about the bonds formed in this place. Henry, too, is on the precipice of that, though not quite far enough to have fallen past that point of no return. Not yet.]
So you’ve decided. Well… you’re one step ahead of me when it comes to most of the rest of this place.
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I do not feel ahead. I feel like I am chasing something moved on without me.
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What? Me?
[He hasn't denied her of anything. He certainly doesn't recall as much. Flashes of that time in the diner spring to his mind. Maybe he's being too presumptuous, but-]
You made it clear you weren't interested in me like that.
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[ who are already gone, and those who could not find my indecision bearable, or something like that; maybe it's a feeling based in nothing but her own sense of loss, and it has no bearing on reality. he flows into that second bit before she can formulate any of this. always speaking without thinking about it first, that's her.
GRIPS HER KNEE HARDER ]
I have not been in good place.
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And so fresh after telling her the truth? About how many he’s killed? How does he know how much is too much, olive branch or otherwise?]
…Can I sit next to you?
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it's about not being alone. ]
You can.
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Then he reaches out, fingertips just under her chin, to turn her head gently towards him.]
Look at me.
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mumbles, ] I... I am inebriated. Nothing coming out how I mean.
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[Her state, with too much drink in her veins, has no bearing on his side of this equation.]
Nothing’s changed between us. What I’ve said before, how we’re connected by our similarities, you think that bond’s so fickle to fade away just because you’ve been upset at me once or twice?
[He hated the strings connecting himself to the rest of this prison when he realized what they truly meant for him. But now, they at least prove that there is always someone… there. That they aren’t truly alone.]
It isn’t. Trust me.
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does it matter?
her eyes get kinda shiny for a moment, and she clears her throat gruffly. and just... wends her arms around him, clumsily, chin slotted in over his shoulder ]
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Ah, well. Henry is not a touchy-feely person in this sense. Hugs are foreign objects to him, and he reacts—at first—very much accordingly. Still and with his head craning down at an angle, trying to gauge at an expression he can’t clearly see.
But finally, as though his body were finally catching up to his mind, an arm drapes around her middle. His poor friend, always so overwrought.]
You’re warm. [He teases, airily.] Don’t tell me that’s all alcohol.
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But he doesn’t resist when she pulls his other arm around her, and just clasps hold of his opposite forearm with his fingers to secure himself there.]
So you’re the expert?
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[ a tiny, tiny mutter into his shoulder. she does have that vibe to her; secure and warm. like a little space heater in the shape of a little woman. she'd add her tail to push that claim further, but... maybe that's too intimate for what they share ]
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I don't have much to compare to, but... I think I'll have to agree.
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Nothing could compare, of course.
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Instead, he lets her rest against him in that complete hug, for however long she likes.]
I see you continue to spoil me.
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Giving woman, me.
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You're shaking.
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