[ A low hum reverberates from within his chest, a noise as much of consideration as it is of whimsy. Yu is fading quickly, and again that nagging sense of fear probes at his thoughts, interjects anxiety into the otherwise languid atmosphere of the room.

He needs this, Lavi reminds himself, constructing a mental dam to hold back the growing pool of worry, and you're powerless to stop it.

A blink, slow and concealed, masks those trembling thoughts. Yu's hand curls into his own, pressing against the smooth surface of his palm like a petal, impossibly light and fragile. Absently, his thumb begins to trace light patterns against curled knuckles, a slow, circular pattern drawn out against skin.

What story should he share then? Something that matters but isn't tainted by the blood of this galaxy? It seems to him that Yu needs something akin to a cup of honey, something sweet and uncomplicated, but does such a thing exist?

All of his stories are of wars--of men breaking themselves for honor or deity. There's nothing so sweet and rich in the human world.

Finally, Lavi chuckles to himself, releasing the lock of hair to reach for the hand at his chest. The answer is clear, simple, and quite literally staring him in the face. If he cannot find a story of saccharine dreams in the human world, he'll look beyond it.

To this end, he turns Yu's hand so that the palm is facing him, his own digits lacing through the back of knuckles with careless ease. Holding the other man's hand up enough to get a clear view of it, Lavi makes a show of calculated study. ]

Did you know? A long time ago, people used to think you could tell someone's future based on the lines in their palm. It was a popular mode of divination for thousands of years.

Yours says...

[ Chin tilt. ]

You should be nicer to your partner for a happier life.

[ Totally what it says. ]