( soft laughter well practiced in wending its way through the slightly less soft cough, harumasa's posture remains relaxed, his hip pressed into the counter, arms lightly folded as he watches the larger cat and much smaller cat interact. the way it lets lighter manhandle it as such does bespeak a certain curiosity and affection, or at least not outright dislike. it had taken a while for it to warm up to harumasa, who isn't hurt by the much quicker warmth here. that's how it is for resocializing of any creature; the first is the hardest.
what comes after, at least for a while, is usually easier.
despite boiling water earlier, he foregoes it, the faint tremble in his body a kind of warning he's learned to listen to if he can, when he can.
the side lighter dropped the cat on depresses under its lightfooted path in circles, making indentations on the neatly lain covers, tugging a snagged paw free as if it meant to do that, only to whip around endearingly at the trail of harumasa's fingertip along its side. it butts its head against his pale knuckles and his smile changes: somehow younger, fond and a moment far away. then it's his usual smile as he peers up at lighter, having sat down on that same side of the bed.
with his free hand he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. )
That's your side —
( an alert comes through on his phone, and the then slighted feline leaps down and disappears.
the sigh from harumasa is more dramatic than it needs to be. )
— or take the whole thing, something's up.
( as he stands, he thinks he makes it natural: the clap of his hand to lighter's arm as if to say "all yours". if it steadies him on his way back out to what serves as the common area of this little unit, well, a bonus. he closes the door behind him with a cutesy wave and a "good night mr. mercenary".
truth: the alert is not work, not technically. also truth: he didn't think this through. his apartment really isn't equipped for this, but oh well. he settles on the couch, leaning up to flip his laptop open for the look of it, then leans back again, breaths shuddering through him a little cold, a little both dry and wet. closing his eyes gives a bit of relief, and he decides that thinking of how warm lighter felt in proximity is a silly if accurate observation.
he finds himself wondering what brought lighter out here anyway. maybe some work with the proxy? certainly not just for a convenience store pit stop. there's sometimes this sense about the undefeated champion: the way a person's years and experiences manifest in their presence even when they're not telling you anything about themselves. ah. it doesn't matter. probably. i'm just tired.
not meaning to fall asleep usually leads to just that. even being in a separate room likely wouldn't hide night terrors from someone like lighter but it is what it is. he'll play it off if he needs to.
no subject
what comes after, at least for a while, is usually easier.
despite boiling water earlier, he foregoes it, the faint tremble in his body a kind of warning he's learned to listen to if he can, when he can.
the side lighter dropped the cat on depresses under its lightfooted path in circles, making indentations on the neatly lain covers, tugging a snagged paw free as if it meant to do that, only to whip around endearingly at the trail of harumasa's fingertip along its side. it butts its head against his pale knuckles and his smile changes: somehow younger, fond and a moment far away. then it's his usual smile as he peers up at lighter, having sat down on that same side of the bed.
with his free hand he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. )
That's your side —
( an alert comes through on his phone, and the then slighted feline leaps down and disappears.
the sigh from harumasa is more dramatic than it needs to be. )
— or take the whole thing, something's up.
( as he stands, he thinks he makes it natural: the clap of his hand to lighter's arm as if to say "all yours". if it steadies him on his way back out to what serves as the common area of this little unit, well, a bonus. he closes the door behind him with a cutesy wave and a "good night mr. mercenary".
truth: the alert is not work, not technically. also truth: he didn't think this through. his apartment really isn't equipped for this, but oh well. he settles on the couch, leaning up to flip his laptop open for the look of it, then leans back again, breaths shuddering through him a little cold, a little both dry and wet. closing his eyes gives a bit of relief, and he decides that thinking of how warm lighter felt in proximity is a silly if accurate observation.
he finds himself wondering what brought lighter out here anyway. maybe some work with the proxy? certainly not just for a convenience store pit stop. there's sometimes this sense about the undefeated champion: the way a person's years and experiences manifest in their presence even when they're not telling you anything about themselves. ah. it doesn't matter. probably. i'm just tired.
not meaning to fall asleep usually leads to just that. even being in a separate room likely wouldn't hide night terrors from someone like lighter but it is what it is. he'll play it off if he needs to.
with a smile. )