[ She watches him for a moment, not quite studying, but definitely letting the gears in her head work a little harder. To lie? To suss out a truth? Who knows. ]
[Oh. Oh no. Oh...yes. Confusion vanishes, replaced by a war between desperation and terror.
Desperation won.]
I'll be there soon.
[As soon as he can manage to find himself in Freya district from the burnt-out building he was hiding in, he's there, knocking very quietly on her door to try not to wake anyone else up.]
[ She nods a small amount and ends the feed as he sets out. It's definitely late; probably close to one or two in the morning. But it's quiet and she hears him in the stillness of the night (thank god it's quiet around here, for now).
The door opens and it's .. odd. Seeing him standing there, alive and breathing and not bleeding out everywhere. Her mind overlaps the images, and for a brief moment, she just stands there. Until she doesn't, and steps back just enough to offer him in. ]
[ And in a burst, she rounds on him. This sort of thing comes out in unimaginable ways, ways you can't predict for, even yourself. ]
Oh shut up-- You haven't upset me, an' I know you're sayin' that cause of what happened, and I don't-- That doesn't matter. It's over an' done with, an' it wasn't you. I chose t'stay an' watch, an' if that messes with my head then it's my own fault, not yours. S'just-- shut up.
Is that why you're acting like you're upset with me? Why you accuse me of whinging?
Alright, so it wasn't me, but it still kills me that you had to watch that. It's only natural when someone you-- you care about is hurt or upset.
[He's spoiling everything, he knows. He just doesn't know how to make her understand. There's nothing he can do, really. Mainly because he's just too damned afraid.]
You think it'd been better if I left? If I ran away like a child an' let you- let you die on your own? How's that better? I'd be--!
[ She pauses, forcibly bringing her volume down.] I'd be more messed up if I had left. You don't get it. You don't cause you weren't there- you haven't lived it yet an' that's fine.
But you've got a nasty habit of tryin' to send me away when you're hurt or in trouble, cause you think sparing me is the better option. An' it isn't. Every time you do- somethin' worse happens. You die or the universe decides enough is enough and rips us apart. So no, you don't get t'try an' make me understand, cause I get it. An' I don't care.
He suddenly freezes and just stares at her. That outburst explains so much, and now his irritation at her being angry with him for wanting to spare her the pain seem so trivial.
Taking a step forward, then two, he speaks in a quiet voice.]
One thing you should remember is that there is a reason for what they do, and that reason lies in their past. Which is me.
[Against his normal gentlemanly demeanor, he suddenly takes a step back again and strips off his jacket and the white t-shirt beneath, tossing them aside. The shyness has disappeared, mainly because baring his chest has a purpose behind it, and he can ignore the fact that he's bare-chested in front of Rose Tyler for a moment.
He takes her hand gently, if she'll let him, and rests her fingers against a wide scar in the center of his chest, between where his hearts would be, if he had two of them at the moment.]
[ She's not angry, not really. Frustrated, yes. Exhaustingly so. But for some reason (or maybe he is the reason), she finds telling him this so much easier than she might have any of the others. They know already, have their excuses and so on. Excuses is the wrong word for it, but it's the only term her mind is supplying.
So there is a might of confusion as he steps back, begins to strip. But there's no spark of something else- not right now, even if she can feel a part of her, perhaps her ears, tinting just a little bit darker. For a split second, she imagines she'll see the mark from the other night, the gaping wound, stitched up and healing. She doesn't, of course.
He was the reason they treated her like they did? Made choices for her, lied to her and treated her like she couldn't take care of herself. Because of him? So no, she doesn't pull away when he reaches for her hand. She's left merely in confusion as he lifts it, places it to his chest and while the room was dim, the touch seems to clue in her eyes; a scar. A large one, by the looks of it. And for a moment, she inhales, sharp and cold. But it was in the wrong spot for the wound he'd received only days ago. This was from something else.
Confusion writes itself across her face, eyes narrowing just slightly as her fingers curl and feel out the uneven flesh, softer and nerveless. ]
Someone ... [ The first name to come to mind is Charley. Because that's the only one she knows from this Doctor. ]
I was supposed to. I was going to.
[ But there's no conviction in her voice. She sounds small, suddenly, by comparison. ]
[For a moment, he's quite amazed that she can't feel the way his heart is pounding in his chest. He'd shown nobody this scar, and spoken to nobody about the moment except with those who were there.
His free hand reaches up and brushes wisps of hair back from her face.]
I know. I know... but that doesn't mean I wanted you to have to do it. I would have been as grateful to you as I am to Buffy, but if I could spare you that.
Especially not here. Not when I know that as long as we're here, it will never be forever. Sooner or later, all this will be gone, and you won't even remember who I am. I'd rather you didn't have to spend this time suffering on my account. I made Charley suffer like that enough. I will not do it to you, too.
[ She can feel it, the race of his heart. But maybe it just seems normal, since her own is stuttering along at the same pace. She's used to gentle gestures from the Doctors, but her eyes still flutter in the slightest as he brushes her hair back. She must look a proper mess, having just fallen out of a fitful lack of sleep, though she can just imagine him, any version of him, denying her the statement. The thought almost makes her smile. Almost.
But as her thumb strokes against the tortured skin, eyes drawn to his as he speaks, and she can't help but wonder if ... Could she have gone through with it? Maybe. She'd ordered a Dalek to commit suicide, ripped genocide through an entire species (and though she hadn't been in her full mind then, she remembers it clearly, now). Could she have killed one Time Lord turned human out of mercy? ]
But this- [ Her voice cracks, and she tries again, with slightly more push in it. ] What if this is all I have?
[His throat tightens at her words. This was a feeling he knows all too well. As far as he knows, this is all he has left. In this life, at least. When he returns home, Charley would have walked out on him a long time ago, and his best friend, who'd helped him find himself again, would be dead.
As far as he knew, when he left this place, there was only war and destruction left for this life. Still, at least he had other lives to come. Rose doesn't have that luxury. What does he say to that?
His fingertips continue to move, caressing her cheek and ghosting along her jawline with the lightest touch.]
Then...then you make the absolute most of it, and hold on to the ones you love, and the ones...the ones who...
The ones who love you.
[He straightens his fingers to cup her cheek, swallowing down that last bit of terror before pressing a kiss to her lips.]
[ It is a little different, she supposes. Because where before, she had thought (hoped, more accurately) that she would return home when she did, to something more, to Him and his magical machine and all of Time and Space. But now she'd gleaned, had come to find, that it wasn't going to be like that. Her story was .. over, in that sense. She didn't know what came of Theta and she, what would transpire back home (no matter how despairingly Theta painted the picture, here). The life she'd so exhaustingly fought to get back to, wasn't what she would return home to.
He had more lives to come; three more, at the very least, as was proof right there in the city with them. So she leans into his touch, however light it is. It's gentle, just as he is, even when he isn't. But she can feel her eyes watering at his words. They make sense, don't they? That they should never pass up... But hadn't he just been refuting that, only moments ago?
Confusion paints her face once more, but only until it begins to melt into a soft yet stricken sort of realization. What he was saying. She doesn't dare move nor breathe as he cups her cheek, leans in and only inhales as his lips touch hers. ... She could forget this. She could be pulled home and never remember the Doctor (in leather and a jumper) confessing to her, kissing her. Never remember this Doctor, in lieu of his death, coming to her doorstep upon her request, inadvertently admitting to his feelings (that she hadn't been sure of, from him), and kissing her. She could forget all of it, and just for a moment, she's terrified that she will. That the rug will get ripped out from under her feet.
So she grasps at his opened shirt, anchors herself and push-pulls him just a little closer. It's not an excited, sporadic, enthusiastic sort of kiss. But it is full of as much emotion as she could possibly muster out of her human body right now. Even if her eyes are wet within seconds. ]
[How did he describe this world to Eleven? "A moment of grace". However long it lasts, even if they won't remember it, it happened.
Because what’s the point in them being happy now if you know they’re going to be sad later? The answer is, of course, because they are going to be sad later.
This is happening, and it is amazing. He's not really her Doctor, but she's holding onto him and kissing him back, giving as good as she gets. He's not really ready to question it just now. He needs this moment. It may never be as good as this between them again.
His arms wrap tight around her, the hand that was on her cheek has moved to bury itself in her hair. With a tilt of his head, he deepens the kiss, holding her to him like she may just disappear when he opens his eyes.]
[ She's not sure she wants to think about anything other that this particular moment, terrified that if she does, something will snap and shatter and it will all fall apart. So she surrounds herself with it, lets him wrap his arms around, returns the favour and grasps at his back, tears that aren't building anymore falling out of closed eyes as she tilts her head along with his. It's not exactly pretty, but she isn't about to burst into tears anymore, either.
His kiss is so ... different. But then, everyone's is always just a little bit different. Where Nine was still and chaste and a bit tentative, his predecessor's is less so. Not better, not worse, but a different sort of good. One of her arms snakes up and over his shoulders, holding and pulling him to her and even if the stark height difference is odd, it doesn't disturb from her attempts to cocoon herself inside his arms. ]
[After a long, long moment, he finally comes up for air, staring down at her with a slightly startled look on his face. Had he really done that? It's a pleasant surprise, to be sure.
His brows knit together as he looks down at her tear-streaked face, holding her tight against him with one arm while his hand that had been in her hair comes down to gently brush the tears away.]
Rose...
[His voice catches, and he clears his throat and tries again.]
If you're tired, I could...
[He could what? Go now? Tuck her in and take his leave? Sleep here? It is anyone guess, because he stops there, searching her gaze for clues as to how to proceed.]
[ Air. Air sounds good, she'll take some of that. Even if when he does pull back she looks a touch flushed. And not from the ceased tears. She lets him brush them away with closed eyes, indulging once more in the gentle touch of his. But her name brings her attention forward again, and she forces them open once again. ]
I'm exhausted. [ And she is. Utterly bone-dead tired. ] You could ... Sleep here if you like. An' maybe if you don't. I think a bedmate might help me sleep better, anyway.
[ Yes, she did just affirm your staying there, Eight. ]
[There's actually a bit of relief in his eyes. He didn't really want to go back out there anyway. In here is comfort, warmth and understanding. It might just be the best sleep he's had in weeks without being dead.]
I would be happy to.
[He gives her one more little kiss before he lets her go.]
Your wish is my command.
[There's a tiny glimmer of the old light back in his eyes as he grins.]
[ She pauses briefly, after the next kiss (which she will briefly press into, despite the inward bite of her lips after), gives him a strange sort of look at his comment. But, in the end, she puts on a tired little smile, takes his hand and turns back towards the bedroom. The bed isn't massive; it's a single, big enough for two, but just barely. Thankfully they're both under six foot. ]
You said that t'me once- or you will do. After I'd asked to go meet my dad. I'm glad I met him, but that whole ... thing, could've turned out better. [ She pauses again. ] Which was all my doing, by the way. Nothin' of your fault. For once. [ H a h. ]
[He lets himself be led to the bedroom, leaving his shirt in the other room. Once they arrive, he kicks off his boots, giving her a thoughtful frown at her words.]
Things never do seem to work out when I take my companions home. I'm sorry.
[He'd tried to take Lucie back to Blackpool for Christmas, and she ended up getting hit by a car, nearly dying, finding out that he'd lied to her to protect her and ultimately leaving him, saying she could no longer trust him. Home and family never did work out...]
You hadn't met your-- oh.
[He is still fuzzy from the cleansing, but he does manage to catch himself halfway through. A hand rakes through his curls and he grimaces.]
I suppose the upside of it is that, like this place, you had that extra time with your fauther that you would have never had before. And unlike this place, you get to remember it.
[And then he glances to the bed, then down to himself. Jeans are not the most comfortable things to sleep in, but does he have the guts to strip down to his boxers? Does she even want him to do that?
Another little ridiculous thought of trying to be romantic by sweeping her up and settling her in bed crosses his mind, before logic kicks in and reminds him that it would be rather difficult with her being almost exactly the same height as him. The leverage would just be all wrong. Why did this body have to be so short?]
[ His blunder only seems to bring a smile to her lips, however small. ]
He died when I was a few months old. Mum told me stories about him all growin' up, so I went to go meet him. He was nothin' like she'd said. [ It's said with a breath of a laugh in her words. ] Turned out better.
[ And then her room, where she's still completely dressed her jammies, and ... he is not. It's almost painfully obvious how awkward he feels, too. Poor thing. Rose might feel a little self conscious, a little ... nervous. But nothing like he seems to be exuding. ]
You don't have t'sleep in that. I've seen you in shorts before- or, one of you. S'not a big deal.
[ And she will readily crawl onto the bed face-first with a flop, wavering for a moment, and then nudging over until she's left enough room for him to join her when he's ready. ]
[It isn't the first time he's been mostly naked with a woman in her bed, (Charley had been here for a few weeks after all) but it is the first time with this particular woman, and such a first is always intimidating.
Still, after a moment of fidgeting, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, kicking them off out of the way. Before he can overthink things, he climbs into the bed and settles into the spot she's left for him.
Completely on instinct, he gathers her to him and holds her close, pressing a kiss into her hair.]
I don't...think I do. Not nearly as much as I have in previous bodies, at least.
[Because seriously, Six snores like a rusty chainsaw.]
[ Oh good, because she has zero problem with a cuddly Doctor, I mean really. And it feels ... nice to be held, even if it's (sort of, mostly) platonic. So there is no issue with her wriggling into his hold, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. Oddly enough, it reminds her of being in bed with Mickey. If only in the sense that the height difference really .. made a difference, when you were quite used to someone being just over six feet tall. Not in a bad way, of course. It was a complicated mix of emotions. Ones that she wasn't really in the mood to deal with or suss out just yet. Sleep sounded really good, even if it were only for a few hours. He might have been cleansed, but she had not, yet. ]
... Good to know. [ About the snoring. ] If, y'know, I ever end up sleeping over at Six's.
[ Though it's said in half a sleep-mutter, so whether she truly realizes what she's saying, or merely just saying it bluntly, is anyone's guess. After a moment however, her arms shift again, wrapping around him as best she can; one arm over his torso, the other tucked between them. ]
[Poor Eight isn't...feeling very platonic, but it has been the most exhausting of months, and even if he'd been rested and cleansed, emotionally he feels frayed and worn out. Sleep is the right option, even if a corner of his mind would really rather he just lost himself in her for a night.
To bad this night is about the worst time for his courage to rear it's ugly head.
Still, he revels in the closeness they are having at this point, and he runs his fingers through her hair and down her back, sighing pleasantly when her arm wraps around him.]
I'm glad I did, too. I think...I think I needed this.
[ Well no, neither is Rose. But she's tired as all hell, and the mode of cuddling is going to stay platonic because she might shove him off the bed if he tries anything. ... Then again, one can suppose when you're both half naked, cuddled together with one's leg sneaking up slightly between the other's, it could be considered a little more than platonic. Technicalities. Perhaps if she weren't so exhausted... Another time. It would definitely be put to a later date, she would make sure of it. ]
Wh'? Cuddles from a little blonde thing? [ She snorts a little, obviously teasing in her half-asleep state. ] ... I know, though. S'why I ask you t'come over.
[ Nevermind the fact that she obviously needed it too. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
video;
... Can I see you?
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Desperation won.]
I'll be there soon.
[As soon as he can manage to find himself in Freya district from the burnt-out building he was hiding in, he's there, knocking very quietly on her door to try not to wake anyone else up.]
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The door opens and it's .. odd. Seeing him standing there, alive and breathing and not bleeding out everywhere. Her mind overlaps the images, and for a brief moment, she just stands there. Until she doesn't, and steps back just enough to offer him in. ]
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Rose, if I've upset you...I mean, other than what just happened...I mean, I--
[He holds his hands out, at a loss for words.]
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Oh shut up-- You haven't upset me, an' I know you're sayin' that cause of what happened, and I don't-- That doesn't matter. It's over an' done with, an' it wasn't you. I chose t'stay an' watch, an' if that messes with my head then it's my own fault, not yours. S'just-- shut up.
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Alright, so it wasn't me, but it still kills me that you had to watch that. It's only natural when someone you-- you care about is hurt or upset.
[He's spoiling everything, he knows. He just doesn't know how to make her understand. There's nothing he can do, really. Mainly because he's just too damned afraid.]
Please, Rose. Try to understand.
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[ She pauses, forcibly bringing her volume down.] I'd be more messed up if I had left. You don't get it. You don't cause you weren't there- you haven't lived it yet an' that's fine.
But you've got a nasty habit of tryin' to send me away when you're hurt or in trouble, cause you think sparing me is the better option. An' it isn't. Every time you do- somethin' worse happens. You die or the universe decides enough is enough and rips us apart. So no, you don't get t'try an' make me understand, cause I get it. An' I don't care.
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He suddenly freezes and just stares at her. That outburst explains so much, and now his irritation at her being angry with him for wanting to spare her the pain seem so trivial.
Taking a step forward, then two, he speaks in a quiet voice.]
One thing you should remember is that there is a reason for what they do, and that reason lies in their past. Which is me.
[Against his normal gentlemanly demeanor, he suddenly takes a step back again and strips off his jacket and the white t-shirt beneath, tossing them aside. The shyness has disappeared, mainly because baring his chest has a purpose behind it, and he can ignore the fact that he's bare-chested in front of Rose Tyler for a moment.
He takes her hand gently, if she'll let him, and rests her fingers against a wide scar in the center of his chest, between where his hearts would be, if he had two of them at the moment.]
I didn't always spare the ones I love the pain.
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So there is a might of confusion as he steps back, begins to strip. But there's no spark of something else- not right now, even if she can feel a part of her, perhaps her ears, tinting just a little bit darker. For a split second, she imagines she'll see the mark from the other night, the gaping wound, stitched up and healing. She doesn't, of course.
He was the reason they treated her like they did? Made choices for her, lied to her and treated her like she couldn't take care of herself. Because of him? So no, she doesn't pull away when he reaches for her hand. She's left merely in confusion as he lifts it, places it to his chest and while the room was dim, the touch seems to clue in her eyes; a scar. A large one, by the looks of it. And for a moment, she inhales, sharp and cold. But it was in the wrong spot for the wound he'd received only days ago. This was from something else.
Confusion writes itself across her face, eyes narrowing just slightly as her fingers curl and feel out the uneven flesh, softer and nerveless. ]
Someone ... [ The first name to come to mind is Charley. Because that's the only one she knows from this Doctor. ]
I was supposed to. I was going to.
[ But there's no conviction in her voice. She sounds small, suddenly, by comparison. ]
action
His free hand reaches up and brushes wisps of hair back from her face.]
I know. I know... but that doesn't mean I wanted you to have to do it. I would have been as grateful to you as I am to Buffy, but if I could spare you that.
Especially not here. Not when I know that as long as we're here, it will never be forever. Sooner or later, all this will be gone, and you won't even remember who I am. I'd rather you didn't have to spend this time suffering on my account. I made Charley suffer like that enough. I will not do it to you, too.
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But as her thumb strokes against the tortured skin, eyes drawn to his as he speaks, and she can't help but wonder if ... Could she have gone through with it? Maybe. She'd ordered a Dalek to commit suicide, ripped genocide through an entire species (and though she hadn't been in her full mind then, she remembers it clearly, now). Could she have killed one Time Lord turned human out of mercy? ]
But this- [ Her voice cracks, and she tries again, with slightly more push in it. ] What if this is all I have?
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As far as he knew, when he left this place, there was only war and destruction left for this life. Still, at least he had other lives to come. Rose doesn't have that luxury. What does he say to that?
His fingertips continue to move, caressing her cheek and ghosting along her jawline with the lightest touch.]
Then...then you make the absolute most of it, and hold on to the ones you love, and the ones...the ones who...
The ones who love you.
[He straightens his fingers to cup her cheek, swallowing down that last bit of terror before pressing a kiss to her lips.]
action
He had more lives to come; three more, at the very least, as was proof right there in the city with them. So she leans into his touch, however light it is. It's gentle, just as he is, even when he isn't. But she can feel her eyes watering at his words. They make sense, don't they? That they should never pass up... But hadn't he just been refuting that, only moments ago?
Confusion paints her face once more, but only until it begins to melt into a soft yet stricken sort of realization. What he was saying. She doesn't dare move nor breathe as he cups her cheek, leans in and only inhales as his lips touch hers. ... She could forget this. She could be pulled home and never remember the Doctor (in leather and a jumper) confessing to her, kissing her. Never remember this Doctor, in lieu of his death, coming to her doorstep upon her request, inadvertently admitting to his feelings (that she hadn't been sure of, from him), and kissing her. She could forget all of it, and just for a moment, she's terrified that she will. That the rug will get ripped out from under her feet.
So she grasps at his opened shirt, anchors herself and push-pulls him just a little closer. It's not an excited, sporadic, enthusiastic sort of kiss. But it is full of as much emotion as she could possibly muster out of her human body right now. Even if her eyes are wet within seconds. ]
action
Because what’s the point in them being happy now if you know they’re going to be sad later? The answer is, of course, because they are going to be sad later.
This is happening, and it is amazing. He's not really her Doctor, but she's holding onto him and kissing him back, giving as good as she gets. He's not really ready to question it just now. He needs this moment. It may never be as good as this between them again.
His arms wrap tight around her, the hand that was on her cheek has moved to bury itself in her hair. With a tilt of his head, he deepens the kiss, holding her to him like she may just disappear when he opens his eyes.]
action
His kiss is so ... different. But then, everyone's is always just a little bit different. Where Nine was still and chaste and a bit tentative, his predecessor's is less so. Not better, not worse, but a different sort of good. One of her arms snakes up and over his shoulders, holding and pulling him to her and even if the stark height difference is odd, it doesn't disturb from her attempts to cocoon herself inside his arms. ]
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His brows knit together as he looks down at her tear-streaked face, holding her tight against him with one arm while his hand that had been in her hair comes down to gently brush the tears away.]
Rose...
[His voice catches, and he clears his throat and tries again.]
If you're tired, I could...
[He could what? Go now? Tuck her in and take his leave? Sleep here? It is anyone guess, because he stops there, searching her gaze for clues as to how to proceed.]
action
I'm exhausted. [ And she is. Utterly bone-dead tired. ] You could ... Sleep here if you like. An' maybe if you don't. I think a bedmate might help me sleep better, anyway.
[ Yes, she did just affirm your staying there, Eight. ]
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I would be happy to.
[He gives her one more little kiss before he lets her go.]
Your wish is my command.
[There's a tiny glimmer of the old light back in his eyes as he grins.]
action
You said that t'me once- or you will do. After I'd asked to go meet my dad. I'm glad I met him, but that whole ... thing, could've turned out better. [ She pauses again. ] Which was all my doing, by the way. Nothin' of your fault. For once. [ H a h. ]
action
Things never do seem to work out when I take my companions home. I'm sorry.
[He'd tried to take Lucie back to Blackpool for Christmas, and she ended up getting hit by a car, nearly dying, finding out that he'd lied to her to protect her and ultimately leaving him, saying she could no longer trust him. Home and family never did work out...]
You hadn't met your-- oh.
[He is still fuzzy from the cleansing, but he does manage to catch himself halfway through. A hand rakes through his curls and he grimaces.]
I suppose the upside of it is that, like this place, you had that extra time with your fauther that you would have never had before. And unlike this place, you get to remember it.
[And then he glances to the bed, then down to himself. Jeans are not the most comfortable things to sleep in, but does he have the guts to strip down to his boxers? Does she even want him to do that?
Another little ridiculous thought of trying to be romantic by sweeping her up and settling her in bed crosses his mind, before logic kicks in and reminds him that it would be rather difficult with her being almost exactly the same height as him. The leverage would just be all wrong. Why did this body have to be so short?]
So...ah...after you?
action
He died when I was a few months old. Mum told me stories about him all growin' up, so I went to go meet him. He was nothin' like she'd said. [ It's said with a breath of a laugh in her words. ] Turned out better.
[ And then her room, where she's still completely dressed her jammies, and ... he is not. It's almost painfully obvious how awkward he feels, too. Poor thing. Rose might feel a little self conscious, a little ... nervous. But nothing like he seems to be exuding. ]
You don't have t'sleep in that. I've seen you in shorts before- or, one of you. S'not a big deal.
[ And she will readily crawl onto the bed face-first with a flop, wavering for a moment, and then nudging over until she's left enough room for him to join her when he's ready. ]
Hope you don't snore.
action
[It isn't the first time he's been mostly naked with a woman in her bed, (Charley had been here for a few weeks after all) but it is the first time with this particular woman, and such a first is always intimidating.
Still, after a moment of fidgeting, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, kicking them off out of the way. Before he can overthink things, he climbs into the bed and settles into the spot she's left for him.
Completely on instinct, he gathers her to him and holds her close, pressing a kiss into her hair.]
I don't...think I do. Not nearly as much as I have in previous bodies, at least.
[Because seriously, Six snores like a rusty chainsaw.]
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... Good to know. [ About the snoring. ] If, y'know, I ever end up sleeping over at Six's.
[ Though it's said in half a sleep-mutter, so whether she truly realizes what she's saying, or merely just saying it bluntly, is anyone's guess. After a moment however, her arms shift again, wrapping around him as best she can; one arm over his torso, the other tucked between them. ]
I'm glad you came over.
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To bad this night is about the worst time for his courage to rear it's ugly head.
Still, he revels in the closeness they are having at this point, and he runs his fingers through her hair and down her back, sighing pleasantly when her arm wraps around him.]
I'm glad I did, too. I think...I think I needed this.
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Wh'? Cuddles from a little blonde thing? [ She snorts a little, obviously teasing in her half-asleep state. ] ... I know, though. S'why I ask you t'come over.
[ Nevermind the fact that she obviously needed it too. ]
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