(oh, she thinks, at the first streak of recognition that lights across his face, how he instantly pales under its glow and the many thoughts that must be racing within his mind's eye. of course it's you, because how else could she ever account for this sense of comfort with a stranger? even after years of distance, reunion, separation and meeting again, she thinks she could pick out his voice from a thousand others in a chorus. a sound that could lull her to sleep and then pull her out from the dark in a single breath: her home frequency. the only home she knows.
his grip lands firm, tight enough around her wrist that she should panic if it were literally anyone else. she goes easily from the booth, hauled bodily along on cooperative legs as she blinks through the whirlwind of emotions that rise to the surface with the sudden revelation.
confusion? dread. she's so happy to see him that her heart aches fit to bursting in her chest. how is he doing? not well. she can't imagine that her beloved brother would take easily to the pedantic dirtiness of what the house would like them to do for freedom. not without suffering first for it. and if he does enjoy himself? that would be good. wouldn't it? a maelstrom he can probably feel when they're this close, with his hand pulling robin across the lounge aimlessly. she's resonating unconsciously with it.
funny how she loses sight of everyone else for that blanking moment — until she catches sight of the guard in her peripheral, and the obvious way he inspects them. no, it doesn't look good, but there's the buffer that is the perceived rank between them. robin could try to take sunday by the hand and lead them instead, but a server dragging an elite into a room would be riskier, a picture that they can't risk when her brother isn't in his right mind. )
... please.
( funny. maybe she should balk at the implication, but despite crossing her mind just the once, her other hand lands gently across the back of sunday's gloved knuckles as she tucks in closer, voice pitched a little breathy from his rush. )
no subject
his grip lands firm, tight enough around her wrist that she should panic if it were literally anyone else. she goes easily from the booth, hauled bodily along on cooperative legs as she blinks through the whirlwind of emotions that rise to the surface with the sudden revelation.
confusion? dread. she's so happy to see him that her heart aches fit to bursting in her chest. how is he doing? not well. she can't imagine that her beloved brother would take easily to the pedantic dirtiness of what the house would like them to do for freedom. not without suffering first for it. and if he does enjoy himself? that would be good. wouldn't it? a maelstrom he can probably feel when they're this close, with his hand pulling robin across the lounge aimlessly. she's resonating unconsciously with it.
funny how she loses sight of everyone else for that blanking moment — until she catches sight of the guard in her peripheral, and the obvious way he inspects them. no, it doesn't look good, but there's the buffer that is the perceived rank between them. robin could try to take sunday by the hand and lead them instead, but a server dragging an elite into a room would be riskier, a picture that they can't risk when her brother isn't in his right mind. )
... please.
( funny. maybe she should balk at the implication, but despite crossing her mind just the once, her other hand lands gently across the back of sunday's gloved knuckles as she tucks in closer, voice pitched a little breathy from his rush. )
I think I saw a bedroom that was unoccupied.
( there. to alleviate any doubt. )