[At that arid little remark, Tyki lets his mouth slant into a thinner smile.
Then the boy approaches, and he isn't the only one who gets a view of a face closeup, although Tyki's had far more opportunity to examine the Bookman's apprentice in recent days. Granted, the young man was often not conscious—so it is a change to see him once more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, guise affixed or not. He finds himself tempted to reach out and peel off the mask, or... maybe even the eye patch, just to see the difference. The urge tempers as he meets that sole green eye, watching it examine him back.]
I guess I should. [Tyki lifts the flute and drains half in a thick swallow; then he extends it out to the boy.] Here, you hold it for me.
[Regardless of any hesitation, it will be summarily forced into his hand.]
Now let's take a look.
[The Noah's freed hand hooks into the hard lip of the metal belt, using this to tug him closer—just that last gap of space between them. Now they're near enough to share the same air, and Tyki's golden eyes are gleaming, sharp in the light, affected by something that is not the cloudy waste of inebriation.]
Three locks? You're a bit high maintenance, aren't you. [The hand on Lavi's belt transfers to one hip, squeezing to keep him in place should he decide to bolt; they're too far into the game to allow a forfeiture like that.] Lucky you, though, that I won't need to undress you.
[He slots the key into the keyhole at the hip he's holding fast—and, after a tense moment, it grinds and then clicks loose. Tyki smiles broadly.]
no subject
Then the boy approaches, and he isn't the only one who gets a view of a face closeup, although Tyki's had far more opportunity to examine the Bookman's apprentice in recent days. Granted, the young man was often not conscious—so it is a change to see him once more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, guise affixed or not. He finds himself tempted to reach out and peel off the mask, or... maybe even the eye patch, just to see the difference. The urge tempers as he meets that sole green eye, watching it examine him back.]
I guess I should. [Tyki lifts the flute and drains half in a thick swallow; then he extends it out to the boy.] Here, you hold it for me.
[Regardless of any hesitation, it will be summarily forced into his hand.]
Now let's take a look.
[The Noah's freed hand hooks into the hard lip of the metal belt, using this to tug him closer—just that last gap of space between them. Now they're near enough to share the same air, and Tyki's golden eyes are gleaming, sharp in the light, affected by something that is not the cloudy waste of inebriation.]
Three locks? You're a bit high maintenance, aren't you. [The hand on Lavi's belt transfers to one hip, squeezing to keep him in place should he decide to bolt; they're too far into the game to allow a forfeiture like that.] Lucky you, though, that I won't need to undress you.
[He slots the key into the keyhole at the hip he's holding fast—and, after a tense moment, it grinds and then clicks loose. Tyki smiles broadly.]