he manages to look sheepish at her saying so, however, corners of his eyes pinching as he exhales a huff, almost humor. weary as it may be. ] Ugh — yeah, yeah I guess?
[ the topic change feels a little like an offer, standing there with stinging eyes and brittle hearts. something that opens up the air to move forward instead of dwell, and he’s glad. we’re okay and his mouth tilts, a hint of a smile, relief echoed in the expression more than anything else. he wasn’t asking about their physical bodies, anyway. he knows they are and aren’t but that’s the way its been for a while.
but, the question does get him to focus a little more on what’s around them.
it’s feels disjointed, this space, standing in the living room of the small bedsit apartment that must have bled through his thoughts enough for wanda to shape it, with the distinctive chill of emptiness until he looks past it and to the kitchen and while he’s not yet mastered the full extents of the horizon, it is so intrinsically instinctual, that all it takes is for him to think about it just a little louder.
he’s good at that, after all, fact established and the kitchen takes on a warmth again, feels like two different places. he considers it, wants to pull towards it, frowns and shakes his head. ] No — we lived in a few different places.
They were all in New York, though. [ there’s a couch, the same one may’s had for a while. there’s a table, chairs. ] This one's...the first one I had to get by myself, though.
[ tentatively, ] Oh — um, I met your kids? [ everything feels like a poorly timed segue right now. he winces. ] Sorry, it's fine if you don't want to talk about it, but I just — I didn't know. We saw a lot of stuff from each other? And I just mean, if you wanted to talk about things, I'm here to listen.
[ and, in the fashion of someone who truly talks as much as he thinks, he adds with that quiet sort of honesty that is inevitably too telling: ] It — just feels less lonely, now.
no subject
he manages to look sheepish at her saying so, however, corners of his eyes pinching as he exhales a huff, almost humor. weary as it may be. ] Ugh — yeah, yeah I guess?
[ the topic change feels a little like an offer, standing there with stinging eyes and brittle hearts. something that opens up the air to move forward instead of dwell, and he’s glad. we’re okay and his mouth tilts, a hint of a smile, relief echoed in the expression more than anything else. he wasn’t asking about their physical bodies, anyway. he knows they are and aren’t but that’s the way its been for a while.
but, the question does get him to focus a little more on what’s around them.
it’s feels disjointed, this space, standing in the living room of the small bedsit apartment that must have bled through his thoughts enough for wanda to shape it, with the distinctive chill of emptiness until he looks past it and to the kitchen and while he’s not yet mastered the full extents of the horizon, it is so intrinsically instinctual, that all it takes is for him to think about it just a little louder.
he’s good at that, after all, fact established and the kitchen takes on a warmth again, feels like two different places. he considers it, wants to pull towards it, frowns and shakes his head. ] No — we lived in a few different places.
They were all in New York, though. [ there’s a couch, the same one may’s had for a while. there’s a table, chairs. ] This one's...the first one I had to get by myself, though.
[ tentatively, ] Oh — um, I met your kids? [ everything feels like a poorly timed segue right now. he winces. ] Sorry, it's fine if you don't want to talk about it, but I just — I didn't know. We saw a lot of stuff from each other? And I just mean, if you wanted to talk about things, I'm here to listen.
[ and, in the fashion of someone who truly talks as much as he thinks, he adds with that quiet sort of honesty that is inevitably too telling: ] It — just feels less lonely, now.