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| His heart pounded again as she stepped up to him, but sank when she drifted away. The reality wasn’t matching up as previously mentioned. To him; they were fond. She had taken care of him while he was hurt, provided him shelter when he had fled, and been in everything thought he’d had since he’d left that night. The way her eyes shone was etched into his heart and the discomfort she felt was echoed painfully in her antsy movements. He was nervous from fear of reject. She was nervous in fear of her life. The reality crashed with the imaginary. He could see the shake of her head and he took that to mean she found his antic ridiculous. His ego was bruising. Telcoltl’s right hand moved with precision to his pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. White, pressed and clean, it had a little emblem of some long lost origin. He extended an arm straight out, jutting through the distance. His smile softened before vanishing. “You’re got a little something… just…there” He indicated with his left hand to his own lip sheepishly. Sheepishly? Yeah…very un-Telcoltl but that’s the best way to describe it. “I was wondering, since we’re out—if I could interest you in a drink?” His face flushed. “Well- like…a cocktail type drink.” His left hand vaguely indicated to the dead body, “…not that type. I can imagine you’re full. I was thinking…like alcohol.” Oh god, just take the handkerchief so he can die of shame. |