He just watches Ronan's hand slip into his, takes in the familiar calloused fingertips and split or scabbed knuckles. Fighter's hands. Ronan's hands. Slowly, he squeezes back and tries to figure out what to do next. There's a precedent for everything else, for fighting and yelling, a routine that tells him how to proceed. There isn't one for Ronan's unspoken apology, his obvious regret.
He's already coming unglued and having no point of reference only makes it worse.
"I'll check on the animals," he said finally. It was a gentler way of saying, We need space.
no subject
Date: 2016-04-21 02:45 am (UTC)He's already coming unglued and having no point of reference only makes it worse.
"I'll check on the animals," he said finally. It was a gentler way of saying, We need space.