[That's just vague enough to be infuriating, and it taps against Trevor's last remaining nerve. Something. Not that either of them can put words to it, so by all rights, Trevor has no place getting testy about it. Even so...
Even so, that's not the worst answer. Against odds (and Trevor's expectations), Adrian seems amiable to the idea that this isn't just a pastime. A distraction. A release. All those words Trevor parades around his own mind, all the many and varied excuses he invents to ignore what they really are. What this really is.
A connection. Companionship. Affection. Caring. For a man who's at least half what his family's hunted for generations. The irony of it hits harder than anything else, but it comes paired with a solid uppercut of dread and a sudden certainty that he's done for. Utterly and completely ruined.
Trevor pushes a hand over his face, digs the heel of his thumb against his eye and abandons the empty water glass on an emptier stretch of bed. With a huff, he snags Adrian around the waist and drags him close again. Close enough to bury his nose in a pile of soft golden hair, to hook his arm beneath Adrian's shoulders and practically cradle the dhampir against him, to coax the man back into that comfortable tangle they always fall into.
It's no verbal confirmation or gratitude, but it's the closest Trevor can manage to either.]
no subject
[That's just vague enough to be infuriating, and it taps against Trevor's last remaining nerve. Something. Not that either of them can put words to it, so by all rights, Trevor has no place getting testy about it. Even so...
Even so, that's not the worst answer. Against odds (and Trevor's expectations), Adrian seems amiable to the idea that this isn't just a pastime. A distraction. A release. All those words Trevor parades around his own mind, all the many and varied excuses he invents to ignore what they really are. What this really is.
A connection. Companionship. Affection. Caring. For a man who's at least half what his family's hunted for generations. The irony of it hits harder than anything else, but it comes paired with a solid uppercut of dread and a sudden certainty that he's done for. Utterly and completely ruined.
Trevor pushes a hand over his face, digs the heel of his thumb against his eye and abandons the empty water glass on an emptier stretch of bed. With a huff, he snags Adrian around the waist and drags him close again. Close enough to bury his nose in a pile of soft golden hair, to hook his arm beneath Adrian's shoulders and practically cradle the dhampir against him, to coax the man back into that comfortable tangle they always fall into.
It's no verbal confirmation or gratitude, but it's the closest Trevor can manage to either.]