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Resting Exp

It was strange, to observe two forces that circled around each other, and while they physically shared contact, there was still a distant, there.

"Vould be good in Moon, too," Kostya said, blankly, "no idle hand."

He settled in, and rested in his chair. "Spent long time, in there. For veapons chamber. Likelihood of success vas hard to gauge."

Resting Exp

The dynamic shifted very slightly again when it became obvious that America had succumbed to exhaustion. Heedless of Kostya watching him, he gently and carefully smoothed her hair away from her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear only for it to fall right back, as it nearly always did when he tried, and he was as careful of her as if she were made of glass but the sensation was less, now, that he was afraid of hurting his hands and more that he was afraid of breaking her. Whatever it was that made him terrified of a person's casual touch, it didn't seem to be in play when they were asleep.

"She'd have done it without a second thought if they'd told her she had to run a gauntlet and swim through a pit of snakes," he said quietly, and he didn't say it like he meant it as a compliment. "She'd have done it twice if someone suggested she couldn't." He touched his fingertips to the edges of the bruises on her neck, just barely, and finally lifted his eyes to meet Kostya's, and they were strange and possessive and worried.

Serious Talk

He'd made the token sarcastic jabs the first few times, venting his irritation at being permitted only brief excursions: smoke breaks and aimless walks to stretch his legs and alleviate the bone-crushing sense of uselessness that had set in by the middle of day one. Now he said nothing when she showed up, and somewhere in that silence there was gratitude for her not abandoning him. For needing him, even in the tiny sense of needing a room with a human being in it that she trusted.

"Oh god," he said, without looking up from the book he was reading (recreational, while he had the excuse; more than once in front of her he'd made his way to the last page of a volume and calmly and without comment simply opened it back up to the first one). "Not an eagle. Or a panther," he added, just in case her thoughts were headed in that direction generally. "Or a wolf. No."

1337 5K1LL2


With a grin, she began typing.

Resting Exp

Kostya observed, filed away, and adjusted his mental calculations regarding America and Taym. Something tugged at him in shades of resentment and hues of envy.

There was a gentleness in Taym when he touched her, a softness that was innate. It could not be emulated, try as he might. His attempts at kindness and caring, he knew, were rough around the edges. He was fortunate that they would weather it, although America clearly indulged much more than Obadiah.

(Inefficient.)

"I know," he replied, finally, watching Taym's nails skim along her delicate skin. "Is good he is not here. Very fortunate."

There was no worry, only the disturbing curve of his lips, and a faraway look (there were dozens of ways to snuff the life out of a body), and each word came out like a brittle shard of glass. "Can fight her own battle, but Antarctica is being too kind."

Serious Talk

"Or a tribal barbed wire armband," he returned drily.

1337 5K1LL2

The screen danced, and letters flashed across the screen as he answered, a literal (former) ghost in the machine.

hi! hello! privyet! hola! anyung!
user=a.jones!
a.jones=fire!
fire fox fox fire RED RED RED #FF0000
reading, reading, loading_
many messages, communication, (plans * infinity) courage + 1 = a.jones!

"He recognise you. Also remember text ve write." Mild amusement across raised brows. "Please no reminding him of silly digital function he does not need."

The words were stern, as if they'd had this talk so many times before, but the face on the totem remained sleeping. While he was connected to Kostya's phone, his little tiny pixel body remained inert.