Logs:Not Nothing
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| RL Date: 11 June, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Oliwer's face meets H'vier's fist, G'laer picks Oliwer up from Healer Hall. No one is happy. |
| Where: Healer Hall & Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer and Oliwer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 13, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Angst. |
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| One of the distinct advantages to having a weyrmate as a crafter is that even if you're called to the Hall to fill in for your ill father, you can go home to your own bed at the end of the night so long as your weyrmate doesn't mind the commute twice each day. G'laer doesn't, and Teisyth certainly doesn't , as evidenced by the way she is wiggling about with her usual frenetic exuberance in the landing area outside the Hall. They arrived not long before the appointed time and now they wait, the man standing utterly still, a stark contrast to his large lifemate as is so often the case. The greenrider will have to wait a little while longer before Oliwer appears. He's not usually late. And he's usually a little more visibly enthusiastic about seeing G'laer and Teisyth again. But right now he's not even looking up from the ground. And the reason might be a little more obvious as he draws closer. His face is bruised, his nose and left cheekbone swollen in a less than flattering way. Nothing about his body language suggests he wants to talk about it, either, hood pulled up, hands shoved into his pockets. The greenrider is, in this type of scenario, a patient man. So he waits, moving only when he sees Oliwer coming. Once Oliwer is recognized at some distance off by his gait, G'laer forces Teisyth to still so he can give her straps a check as the healer comes the rest of the distance toward them. "We were starting to wonder." Not worry, because what could happen to Oliwer here at the Hall? It's only once he's finished the final preparations for their journey back that he turns toward the Healer, now decidedly close enough for the damage to be seen. If Oliwer were a different man, G'laer mightn't bat an eye, but this is Oliwer, and the rider is audibly robbed of breath. The man falls silent, just watching Oli with sudden intensity. Being stared at was probably not what Oliwer was hoping for. Granted, he probably couldn't have actually been hoping to get what he was hoping for, so he'll just have to deal with it. He glances up at G'laer, looking uncomfortable with the attention, before nodding, carefully, at Teisyth. "It's nothing. Can we go home?" "No." It's not. "Yes, if you like." The answers are in order. Teisyth stretches, and ohlook that wing just happens to hide them from the side that counts. As that's happening, G'laer is stepping to Oliwer, drawing him into an embrace that is both gentle and protective. "What the hell happened?" It's quiet and intense, colored by his continued shock. Oliwer doesn't pull his hands out of his pockets, but he lets out a sigh of relieved contentment as G'laer pulls him against himself. Safe. The healer tucks his head, the side that probably hurts less, against the greenrider's chest. "Just a minor disagreement. Nothing's broken. I'm fine." Just a little shaken, maybe. "I could really use some tea. Maybe even a drink." This answer doesn't please the greenrider. But he only frowns. "Fine." He agrees, loosening his arms. "Home and tea and maybe even a drink." Then the part the healer probably didn't want to hear: "And then you will tell me who hurt you and why." Settled. G'laer turns and moves to mount, offering Oliwer hands as usual to the spot in the straps in front of him so he can hold his weyrmate the whole way home. It's going to be a silent ride if he has anything to say about it. There's no complaints from Oliwer about how the rest of their evening will go down. But that doesn't necessarily mean he'll open up when the time comes. He mounts, settling into the space in front of G'laer, and he, too, seems perfectly content to remain silent. Even after they've landed on Teisyth's ledge, so he can make his way inside and change into something more comfortable before bothering with any of the rest. In the meantime, G'laer gets the tea ready and places a cup on the table next to the bottle of spirits he produced. Then he settles in a chair and waits, eyes tracking Oliwer all the while. Once he's changed into his more comfortable linen pants and slipped into his slippers, Oliwer is making his way toward the table while he pulls on his shirt, stretching the neck out as much as he can so it doesn't touch his face. "You staring at me isn't going to make me talk sooner," he points out as he glances over at G'laer, offering a small, warm smile. "You remember the woman? The night of the flight?" Of course he does. But Oliwer waits to continue as he pours himself a drink. "I stare at you when your face isn't battered and I'm waiting for you to explain, too." G'laer responds with careful neutrality. Staring, one of the more unnerving joys of being in a relationship with this former guard. This is probably a moment that the greenrider might look back on and have wished he could have smiled in answer to Oli's, but he's just not that guy. He falls silent again giving a single sharp nod. He's still waiting. The healer's smile fades uncertainly. He focuses on his drink for a moment, lifting the glass to take a sip once the bottle is closed again. "Right. I ran into her weyrmate. That's all." He sort of makes it sound like he literally ran into the man and maybe that's how he got his bruises. But then he adds, "Nothing I don't deserve." The greenrider shifts, sitting a little straighter and nudging his chair back from the table before, "Come here." It's not a command this time, but a request, if not a particularly tender one. One hand touches his thigh to indicate he intends for Oliwer to sit in his lap. Oliwer doesn't move right away, instead glancing between the greenrider's face and his thigh. He takes another drink before approaching, setting his glass down on the table along the way, though he doesn't shift to sit in the indicated lap. "I'm okay. Really." "Well, I'm not." G'laer is up in that moment and stalking toward the ledge. Oliwer sitting in his lap wasn't, evidently, about Oliwer at all, but a weight (that G'laer cares about) to keep him anchored instead of... well, doing what he's doing now which is arriving on the ledge to stare down his dragon, who's on her toes, back curled like a startled feline, wings flared out. It takes Oliwer a moment too long to react to that. It leaves him trailing after the greenrider toward the ledge with concern in his voice. "G'laer? What are you doing?" This is apparently not the sort of reaction he was expecting. What happened to a nice, quiet discussion? Or is he the only one that thought of it that way? Whatever the case, Oliwer is trying to put himself in front of G'laer, looking up at the greenrider earnestly. The mask is cracking and in the cracks, in his face now, G'laer is livid. This is not orderly and planned and well-executed. This is not especially G'laer-like. But this might be what happens when an otherwise methodical man becomes impassioned with something other than love. "I'm going to find him." That's the answer and it's in a cool tone that might be just a little bit more frightening than if he was yelling. Does he need to add aloud the 'to kill him' part? G'laer's blue eyes flick finally from Teisyth where he'd no doubt been silently battling wills, to Oliwer in front of him and then back to the dragon. "No." Oliwer's voice in that one word is firm even though he's looking very uncertain about this livid G'laer thing that he's never quite experienced before. "You're going to stay here. With me. And you're not going off anywhere to get yourself hurt." Which isn't to say that he doesn't think G'laer couldn't handle himself. "Please. I need you here." Oliwer doesn't take his eyes off of the greenrider, though his hands are up against the other man's chest now. It's either part of his plea, or maybe he might actually try to keep G'laer away from Teisyth should the need arise. Two against one. Always two against one. Teisyth croons her own plea. G'laer glares at the green, then at the man. For a few no doubt frightening moments, the greenrider looks as though he might be about to do something he will sorely regret. The yell that rips from him is wordless but fierce, an expression of his frustration, anger, and helplessness as he turns away from them both and strides back toward the inner weyr. Frightening, indeed. Oliwer wasn't made for staring down men like G'laer. He's not very good at it. But he loves this one, trusts him to a possibly unwise degree, and doesn't want him to do anything impulsive. The yell makes him jump all the same, almost tripping backwards. It's not until G'laer has disappeared inside that Oliwer lets out the breath he was holding and glances back at Teisyth to murmur his relieved gratitude in a quiet, "Thank you." It's a couple more moments before he has the resolution to try following the greenrider into the weyr. Teisyth knew it was coming, she can feel it all so her nose is just behind Oliwer when he jumps, touching his back lightly as if to steady him. At his murmur, she gives the healer an affectionate rub and soft encouraging croon. From within there's the sound of things breaking and the green's hooked tail curls in front of Oliwer, as if to tell him to wait. There's a bit more crashing, and then silence. Teisyth waits, as if just to be really sure, and then slowly withdraws her tail and gives a little bump and a repeat of her croon. When Oli enters the weyr (if?), it's the tea mugs that have suffered, and some of the glass containers that held dried herbs. G'laer is sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand clutching the other between his knees, his head bent. Crashing from inside the weyr makes it really easy for Teisyth to keep him right where he is. Oliwer stands there anxiously, trying to keep his breath steady in a mostly unsuccessful attempt at least tricking his body into thinking it's calmer. Even when Teisyth seems to think it's okay for him to go, the healer hesitates for a little while longer before he can bring himself to face the man inside. Once he finally finds his tentative way into the inner weyr, despite any uncertainty about how he'll be received, his path leads him directly toward G'laer. "I'm sorry, Gal," he murmurs, not sure what else to say. Glancing at the greenrider's hands, he adds, "Are you hurt?" G'laer, at this point, probably wishes he could say he's fine, but there's blood in a palm, so clearly he's not. So he shakes his head. Just now he doesn't look at Oliwer, just stares at the blood in his hand. Oliwer moves closer, kneeling down in front of G'laer with a hand lightly touching the greenrider's leg. He glances at the blood, likely doing an unconscious assessment of the damage, but since nothing is spurting and everything is still attached, he asks, "Will you let me help you?" G'laer lifts his eyes to Oliwer's face slowly, and they likely seem hollow. He simply nods his assent. One might stop to wonder how many times the woman's weyrmate has died in the greenrider's mind already. But can anyone count that high? If Oliwer has any thoughts on how he didn't want G'laer to leave precisely so he wouldn't get hurt like this, he doesn't voice them right now. This isn't as bad as it could have ended up, anyway. So the healer rises to fetch the bag he always keeps around now, and returns to go about dealing with the greenrider's hand in uneasy silence. G'laer doesn't do anything to help with the silence, but he's pliable enough as patients go. Once his hand is cleaned up and bandaged, he finds a word, "Oli." Blue eyes shift to the healer's face and away from some indefinite point of space. Then, "I'm sorry." "You don't have anything to apologize for," says Oliwer, voice gentle but quite sure as he meets G'laer's blue eyes with his own. "Just... just promise me you won't go looking for trouble? It's not worth it." Not to him, anyway. "He hurt you." G'laer says this as if it's an inexcusable offense; to the greenrider, it probably is. His jaw sets and he looks down at Oliwer. "You were hurt." It's the same statement and yet different, this one with a tone that's just a little tortured. What does G'laer have to be sorry about? He wasn't there to protect his weyrmate. As a relatively non-violent man, Oliwer probably can't fully understand that G'laer is apologizing for something he couldn't have possibly known would happen. Especially not at the Healer Hall, of all places. "But I'm fine, right? Everything's fine. Promise me," he repeats the last sentiment a little more earnestly. "Are you?" G'laer questions dubiously, reaching his uninjured hand to touch a curled finger under Oliwer's chin so the greenrider can get a really good look at the injuries. "What if he does it again? What if he comes after you?" Then suddenly there's a flare of the earlier anger as he asks, "Did you even come onto her?" And, "Who is she anyway?" These are demands, his expression is intense as he looks at the older man. Oliwer doesn't answer the first question. Maybe he assumes that it's obvious enough somewhere in his bruised and swollen face. But he's a healer, so he takes things for granted. There's a moment where he frowns, though, then he's lifting his head away from G'laer's finger and rising back to his feet. "He has no reason to do it again. He was probably just upset. Like you are. It doesn't matter who she is." Probably because he doesn't want to make it easier for G'laer to look for trouble. "I'm the one who suggested keeping her company. That's not what I'd had in mind, but." It was clearly his fault for putting them into the position. G'laer pushes up onto his feet then too, stepping quite close to the healer. "Oli, I need to know who they are. I need to know in case that bastard comes near you again. So I can be ready." It's sort of a convincing argument even if there's probably the unspoken other half that goes something like 'and so I can hunt him down and fuck him up.' "It matters to me." Considering that G'laer has failed to promise Oliwer he won't go looking for trouble with his assailant, the healer is unsurprisingly hesitant to share that information with the greenrider. But there's that whole other part of him that wants to give the younger man what he's asking for, if for no other reason than to be completely honest about the bad decisions he made that night. "Her name is Tayte. She's a crafter." But that's all he's going to tell. "Oh." That's all he says in answer. Except, it's not just 'oh, a crafter' or 'oh, a woman named Tayte,' it's 'Oh,' with recognition. And not passingly so. "Oh?" Oliwer returns, taking a step back from G'laer so he can look up at him more easily without craning what's no doubt a slightly stiff neck. "You know her?" "Yes." Simply. "She's attractive." Another simply stated phrase, though hardly relevant to the immediate discussion. G'laer moves his head, aiming for a spot on the less injured cheek to press a light kiss before he's moving to step around the healer and head for where the broom and dustpan are kept. There's glass to clean up. That wasn't too easy, right? Nothing to see here! Oliwer is clearly confused, brows furrowed as G'laer kisses his cheek. The healer doesn't speak immediately, but he turns to track the greenrider's movement with a questioning look still on his face. He picks up his bag to put it away, asking as he turns back, "But how do you know her?" "Vintner, right?" G'laer clarifies, just in case there's more than one crafter-named-Tayte. He moves with the broom and dustpan to the first mess. "Right. I think so." It sounds familiar but it's not like everything from his encounter with the woman is crystal clear. Plus Oliwer wants to know what G'laer is being less than completely forthcoming about. Sweep, sweep. Sweep, sweep. "I met her in Ista Weyr some turns back." Sweep, sweep. Well, now Oliwer is just getting a little agitated. It's almost kind of adorable. Though maybe less so with his face looking the way it does right now. "And? What? Did you...?" He might just let that thought linger unspoken but since G'laer is being very minimalistic right now, he asks more directly, "Did you sleep with her?" The broom stops. Maybe it's just time to empty the dust pan? G'laer tilts his chin only toward the healer. "And if I did?" This conversation would probably go better if it were before and or distanced after the events of the evening. But it's happening now, isn't that fun? The greenrider's question, maybe his whole demeanor, makes something hurt flicker into Oliwer's face. Something that has nothing to do with getting punched. "I suppose... nothing. I just wanted to know. I mean, even if you did, it was before us." Right? He's not entirely sure about that, but he'll assume. The disapproving rumble on the ledge is not loud enough to be heard, but it and what's behind it is probably responsible for the way G'laer tenses and relents as he straightens with the dustpan. "I didn't sleep with her." After a moment of silence he adds, "I didn't want to sleep with her." And, "She's not my type." Then he moves toward the waste basket to empty the pan. That might help Oliwer from looking a little insecure. But it doesn't really explain what he seemed to believe was a problem in the first place. Except rather than pressing about Tayte, he says, "I'm not sure I could really hold it against you if there were someone your type now. That you wanted to be with, I mean." Not that he'd be happy about it, granted. "Do you still want to be with women?" "Rephrase." G'laer requires as he moves to the pile of teacup shards. It's like they're playing the game where one can only ask yes or no questions and the answer isn't simple enough to be one or the other. "I'll need a new set." This is more to himself than the healer as he looks over the broken shards. There's only one ceramic that made it out unscathed. He sets the broom tip to start collecting the bits. Oliwer puffs out a vaguely frustrated breath and considers before asking again, "Do you want to be with women in addition to our relationship?" "No." See? That one he can answer. There wasn't even a hesitation! "I only want you." And a follow-up! G'laer doesn't look over at the healer now though, he's focused on the task at hand. Oliwer doesn't look entirely convinced. But he'll just have to look that way since G'laer isn't looking at him. The healer could probably move to help or something, but instead he sits down on the edge of the bed and watches the greenrider in silence. "Why would you think that I would?" G'laer questions after he deposits the shards and leans the broom back in its place. He heads for the healer on the bed, asking, "Are you not satisfied?" Maybe the healer is projecting? The greenrider's brow is furrowed as he stops in front of the older man. He's still trying to figure out why he would think that when G'laer comes to the bed. Oliwer glances up at him, but only for a moment, gaze slipping back toward toward the waist of the larger man's trousers before he's looking somewhere else entirely. "No, that's not it. I've never been more satisfied in my life, Gal. I just want to make sure that you're satisfied, too. I don't know what it's like to want... both." "I don't." The greenrider shifts his uninjured hand to into the space between them fingers loose and pointed down, an invitation for the healer's hand to join it. "I'm attracted to individuals among both genders, but I don't 'want both.' I'm attracted to certain individuals. I'm attracted to you." Oliwer looks at the hand before lifting his to take it, squeezing gently once he does. "You make it sound like I want a piece of every man I come across." Okay, maybe not. All the same, he clarifies, "I don't. I just want you. And I can't imagine myself ever wanting more than just you." So G'laer doesn't need to think about Oliwer not being satisfied. "I didn't." G'laer protests, "I was just clarifying since you seem to have this crazy idea that I want more than you." He frowns, "Would it make you happier if I slept with some woman so we'd be cosmically 'even'?" "No," says Oliwer without hesitation. Then, "I don't know. I don't think happy is the sort of word you could use to describe it. And I admit it would have been amusing if you'd already slept with the only woman I've ever been with." If amusing is the sort of word you could use for that. "Good. I'd rather not." G'laer sinks down onto his knees, sitting back on his heels in front of the healer. "What do you need from me? Tonight, I mean." In light of the injury. Did he forget to comment on the questionably amusing status or Tayte in general? Oops! There's something about G'laer being on his knees that always kind of distracts the healer. Conditioned response? Evidently! And Oliwer isn't quite so focused in interrogations as a former guard might be. "I just need you to promise that you won't go getting yourself hurt on my account." Well, things are bound to be less frustrating because G'laer is frowning and rising. "I can't do that." That's obviously not the response Oliwer wanted and he doesn't seem entirely sure what to do with it. His brows furrow to meet G'laer's frown. "Why not?" "Because he hurt you." G'laer answers, as if this explains everything. "That's not a good reason for you to get hurt, too, G'laer. Shards, that man is huge." Okay, maybe Oliwer is a little worried about the greenrider's chances. That's probably only because he doesn't know much about how people hurt each other the way G'laer does. "I probably won't," G'laer answers, but surely this detail about Tayte's weyrmate is filed away. "But I can't promise." It's probably the wrong move to brashly say, "The big ones are just as fragile as the small ones in the end." There are emotions that play over Oliwer's face. Anger? Fear? Protectiveness? Nothing he really knows how to deal with. He drops G'laer's hand and rises, brushing past the greenrider to go find a bottle of something he can stomach. "I don't know if I can deal with worrying about you like that. Or worse, losing you." It could happen. There's a long moment where G'laer doesn't turn, doesn't follow. And then, quietly and a little choked, "Then I should go." Like, leave. For good? Did they just break up? The greenrider's feet must feel like lead but somewhere he finds the ability to move them, his bearing leading him toward the ledge. Oliwer turns when G'laer says that, but he's a little too stunned by what he's just heard to react right away. The greenrider might even be on the ledge before the healer is moving after him. "G'laer?" It's anxious, scared. He's not quite on the ledge, so his feet must have slowed. G'laer is standing just past Teisyth's couch, just where the frigid night air can find him. His fists are clenched and the injured one has begun to slowly drip blood. "Oliwer." It's an answer, but it, too, sounds strangled. His fear evolves pretty quickly into anger once Oliwer reaches G'laer. It's all kind of the same emotion, after all, just different levels on the same spectrum. "You are not fucking leaving me just because I don't want to see you get hurt." He's swearing with the big guns. He must be riled up. "But, fine. If you need it so bad you'd walk out, go do it right now. So we can move on and I don't have to worry about what I might find when I come home some day." It's not until after Oliwer has finished that G'laer can bring himself to turn around. It must surely be a trick of the comparatively dim glow light in this section of the weyr that it looks like there are tears in the greenrider's eyes. "I can't change who I am, Oli. Someone hurts you and I want to hurt them, that's the way it works. That's how I'm wired." Arguably wanting to and acting on it are two different things but... "I don't want to change you, Gal. Shards, it feels good that you want to protect me like that." Feeling good about that sort of thing probably isn't something Oliwer is accustomed to. "But nothing and no one could hurt me more than losing you would hurt me." The healer moves closer, intending to wrap his arms around the greenrider and tuck himself against him. G'laer doesn't stop it, there's even a breath that might be mistaken for shuddery once Oliwer is against him. He doesn't move his arms to encircle Oliwer. "I can't do nothing, Oli, I can't." He lets his hands move then just a little, placing them on the older man's hips. "You can't expect me to just do nothing." It sounds a little like he's pleading with the healer for understanding. Oliwer doesn't say anything for a long time, like maybe he'd just rather stand there holding onto G'laer forever instead of dealing with everything else. That does sound kind of nice. But eventually, finally, the healer tilts his head slightly upward and says, "He's a bronzerider. Iceberg. H'vier." This is probably Oli's way of saying, 'do what you need to do.' Slowly, G'laer's hands rise and encircle the healer and then tighten, pulling him closer, if that's possible. Again Oliwer is silent for a few long moments, relaxing in G'laer's arms once they're around him. But then he shifts, not pulling away, but leaning back enough to look up at the greenrider's face. "Can you at least promise me that you won't..." It's hard to say, let alone consider. "Promise me you won't kill him." It would most certainly have been better if Oli hadn't looked up, hadn't had to see the indecision in G'laer's expression. It was, apparently, in the cards, or at least being considered. But he did, and there it is! His expression clears before he looks down at the healer. "I promise. Unless he does something else to you, or tries to kill me." Even if G'laer provoked him, isn't that still self-defense? There's something almost haunted about the way Oliwer studies G'laer's face. He manages, "He won't do anything else to me." Because he sure as hell isn't going to be touching the reason he'd do anything else to him. "But if it's you or him, well." Oli apparently gives his consent to killing the bronzerider in that instance. G'laer is a bad influence. G'laer buries his face against Oliwer's neck then, hugging him tightly. Then he releases him, his voice quiet, "Will you come inside with me? Have that drink? Or tea?" In the one remaining cup. "I think I'll just stick with a drink at this point." There's supposed to be some humor in those words, but Oliwer's tone falls a little flat. It's been a long day. The greenrider shifts so he can wrap his arm around Oliwer's shoulders and walk him into the weyr, "I'll get it for you." He offers, "Why don't you get settled in your chair or in the bed?" Normally Oliwer might pick his chair right about now. But when he shifts away from G'laer, it's toward the bed that he turns. His slippers come off before he's crawling in to sit up against the headboard. He clearly expects the greenrider to join him. When G'laer joins him, it's with one glass and the bottle. The full glass is given to the healer and the bottle placed in easy reach on the nightstand. G'laer settles on the edge of the bed to tend to his boots and then his socks, and then the rest of his clothes after he stands. Compared to how he usually drinks, a sip at a time, Oliwer sets into that glass with a certain enthusiasm he doesn't usually give alcohol. It's not until he's watching G'laer take his clothes off that his attention is drawn to the bandage the greenrider's bled through. "We should change that," he says, already setting the glass aside on the nightstand and shifting back toward the edge of the bed. "I'll get it." Oliwer's kit. "You stay, relax." G'laer is giving suggestions, but not wasting any time moving to where the kit is kept, returning with only the necessary items and settling himself on the edge of the bed beside Oliwer, twisting toward him and extending the items and his injured hand. It's not so bad, and surely the first bandage would've been fine if he hadn't been clenching his fists that way. Oliwer makes short work of making sure everything's in order and changing G'laer's bandage. The old one is set aside to be dealt with later. For now the healer grasps the greenrider's arm and starts to shift back into bed, tugging his weyrmate with him. G'laer goes willingly. Moving to where Oliwer wants him. "What do you want tonight?" It's asked softly and in a tone that suggests the healer can have whatever that might be. The healer isn't the most imaginative of men when it comes to asking for things he might want. Tonight is no different, but he seems quite sure in his decision. "Just you. Slow and gentle." Maybe anything that will let him forget that the man he loves wants to kill someone. G'laer probably would have been fine with just holding his lover all night, but he can do slow and gentle. It starts with the utterance of those three important words and soon becomes one of the most tender experiences they've ever had, in spite of Oli's busted face. The end finds G'laer falling exhausted on top of his lover. It starts with those words and, for Oliwer, it ends with those words. Once he's had a minute or so to recover and catch his breath, tucking himself in against his weyrmate in the meantime, he adds, "Don't ever scare me walking away like that again." "I thought it would be easier than a long goodbye for you." G'laer murmurs against Oliwer's hair. He did it for him: that's his story. "Maybe," admits Oliwer. "But I don't want a goodbye. I just want you. Safe and healthy." He could say 'uninjured,' but that might be asking too much of the greenrider. "That probably isn't always going to be the case," healthy and safe (and uninjured). At least there is regret in G'laer's tone. "I have a way of ending up in dangerous situations. Shells," it's a soft swear that sends a puff of air into the man's hair, "Teisyth's yet to have a flight, even, where I come out completely unscathed." He probably picks this as the example scenario because as uncomfortable as talking about flights might be, it's better than all the alternatives where the danger is his fault. "I know," says Oliwer, resigned to what he probably already knew was something he could never expect from the greenrider. "Just try, though." That's all he'll ask. "For you and for her, I always will." This is leaps and bounds from what his attitude must have been before. "Do something for me?" Before Oliwer can answer, the something is explained, "Try not to run into any more jealous idiots, okay?" For this he's leaning back and trying a tentative smile. That makes Oliwer laugh. It's small, but genuine. "Trust me, you don't even have to ask. I have no intention of giving jealous idiots a reason to run into me, either." "Good." Then there will just be the one that he has to deal with. Nevermind that the change of humor could be mistaken for a lack of intention on that front. "Ready to sleep?" The question is soft. After all, tonight is about what Oliwer needs. "I could use some sleep," Oliwer admits. What is it about getting punched in the face that makes him tired? Maybe it was just all the emotion afterwards. "Lay with me awhile?" Just in case G'laer isn't quite ready himself. G'laer shifts around so his arm can slip under Oliwer's neck, and so he can pull him closer. "I'm not going anywhere." Trapped. See? Maybe Oli will be able to sleep well feeling safe and protected and with the knowledge that the greenrider isn't heading off to do something stupid, even if he's going to lay a while imagining smart ways to do something stupid. |
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