"Who's a bean pole?" Sion scoffs, largely in play and with a puff of his cheeks as he sips, again, at the poor imitation of a 'vanilla' flavored drink. "You've no right to disparage me so, and you forget that for all you loafed through the training which you did not sleep away, there were those who held affection for the gentle man who remained a fool, unchanged by his time in the military."
That gentle man who holds to the Director's wrist with care, the sensation of touch a spark—one electron, one proton, two neutrons: a balanced equation, spinning like a top—which grants Sion more energy by far than the supplement which is set aside (the bottle emptied by half) and forgotten in favor of something which can be so keenly felt. Were it anyone else, the hand about his wrist would have only been perceived as pressure and the faintest warmth beyond the ever-present pain his body is in, but with Ryner... it has always been like this. What they had endured together had tethered them to one another in more ways than one, in both the physical and not so—for two designed to complement each other down to the marrow, of course it would be natural for them to miss one another.
Of course, it would be natural for Ryner to worry when Sion silenced the connection between them, wanting for his friend to know nothing of the internal audit and its proceedings (the Company agents who the Director himself had interrogated and disposed of), or the tragedy upon Leith (there had been so, so much death, and Sion could only weep with the bereaved as the bodies of their loved ones were burned), making the decision on his own—as he always did—to shut the Enforcer out.
"I..." Fingers curling against Ryner's hand, golden eyes catch with bleary brown. Innately, he knows what it is that the other man asks of him, but it is difficult for Sion to speak of himself. "...wanted only to protect you, Ryner."
Ryner, who has known such hardship in his life for reasons he could not help; for that which Ryner himself could not control.
"Please understand." So softly do the two words fall that it seems Sion had been afraid to speak them—what he has asked for is too much (were Ryner ever to ask that his welfare be disregarded by the Director himself, Sion knows what his own answer would be), and yet this is how it must be. Ryner, in his ignorance, will not be swept up into Company matters, and Sion...
...Sion will find solace in shifting to lie beside his friend upon the couch, forehead touching to forehead, and the long fall of his hair spilling over the cushions and onto the flooring below.
"When we've the chance, we'll go to a bistro on Leith. You'll grumble, because I've woken you up much too early to account for travel-time between moons, and I will order..." Laying down had been a bad idea, hadn't it? Already, sleep has begun its descent upon him, so swiftly that Sion finds himself blinking it back from his eyes. "...pancakes with cinnamon syrup, walnuts, and brie."
no subject
That gentle man who holds to the Director's wrist with care, the sensation of touch a spark—one electron, one proton, two neutrons: a balanced equation, spinning like a top—which grants Sion more energy by far than the supplement which is set aside (the bottle emptied by half) and forgotten in favor of something which can be so keenly felt. Were it anyone else, the hand about his wrist would have only been perceived as pressure and the faintest warmth beyond the ever-present pain his body is in, but with Ryner... it has always been like this. What they had endured together had tethered them to one another in more ways than one, in both the physical and not so—for two designed to complement each other down to the marrow, of course it would be natural for them to miss one another.
Of course, it would be natural for Ryner to worry when Sion silenced the connection between them, wanting for his friend to know nothing of the internal audit and its proceedings (the Company agents who the Director himself had interrogated and disposed of), or the tragedy upon Leith (there had been so, so much death, and Sion could only weep with the bereaved as the bodies of their loved ones were burned), making the decision on his own—as he always did—to shut the Enforcer out.
"I..." Fingers curling against Ryner's hand, golden eyes catch with bleary brown. Innately, he knows what it is that the other man asks of him, but it is difficult for Sion to speak of himself. "...wanted only to protect you, Ryner."
Ryner, who has known such hardship in his life for reasons he could not help; for that which Ryner himself could not control.
"Please understand." So softly do the two words fall that it seems Sion had been afraid to speak them—what he has asked for is too much (were Ryner ever to ask that his welfare be disregarded by the Director himself, Sion knows what his own answer would be), and yet this is how it must be. Ryner, in his ignorance, will not be swept up into Company matters, and Sion...
...Sion will find solace in shifting to lie beside his friend upon the couch, forehead touching to forehead, and the long fall of his hair spilling over the cushions and onto the flooring below.
"When we've the chance, we'll go to a bistro on Leith. You'll grumble, because I've woken you up much too early to account for travel-time between moons, and I will order..." Laying down had been a bad idea, hadn't it? Already, sleep has begun its descent upon him, so swiftly that Sion finds himself blinking it back from his eyes. "...pancakes with cinnamon syrup, walnuts, and brie."
A twitch of his lips, a slow (teasing) smile.
"It will be just like date, don't you think?"