that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
It is harder than he anticipated trying to gain the upper hand in the conversation once more.
Now that the mask has slipped and he is without his devices, he finds that he struggles to gain his footing once more. He struggles to find that apathetic armor. To find some semblance of control, but no matter how he grabs for it, it continues to slip from his grasp—again and again. It leaves him feel like a raw nerve, entirely exposed before her, his sullen mouth pulling into a frown, his golden eyes darkening.
At her insult, he just scowls further, the corners of his mouth deepening, something almost dangerous flashing across his usually neutral expression. It hints at the temper that he has inherited from his father, not just the sarcasm used to deflect, and although he shrugs off her words, they still sting.
“You can still socialize and be alone,” is all he says, because for everything he has said, he has never spurned all company altogether. He has rather enjoyed the company of women. Has liked to flirt and liked to charm. Has liked to dazzle and make others laugh—and has liked to slip away at the first sign of them wanting to know him just a little more. Remembering this sparks enough in him that he clings to it desperately as the only protection that he knows, attempting to turn the conversation on his head.
His smile goes sly, ignoring the accusation of his cowardice outright.
“Is that why you found me again?” His voice is a touch huskier, and he wonders if he can get under her skin this way too. If he can throw her off balance. “Did you want the pleasure of my company?”
He pauses for a moment as he takes a step forward.
“You need only ask.”
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
