quick to catch the lie that makes him swallow the irony that sits at the base of his throat. maybe he's become accustomed to it, tried to embrace it, being the "bad son," the troublemaker and the liar. he could use it, those were his abilities, it was made him Loki—right?
there's a long pause where he lets her words digest and he wonders just what it's like to be "okay." to be "okay" for someone else, and he's not sure he can find a comparison.
[ This is what it's like to have a real friend. Sympathy pains weigh heavily somewhere in her chest as she sits up on a knee and leans in to press a caring, fond kiss to his temple, sighing there as her own mouth dries out. Her hand over his squeezes again and pink hair mingles with black as she rests her forehead close by. ]
That just means you will be eventually. I promise that's the truth.
[ It's a little like trying to straddle being a sister and a living blanket as Verity settles in with a hug, something they don't particularly share but that it feels right to offer up now all the same. Company, in and of itself as she has learned, is usually more effective than words.
After five seconds or so, she amends in a mutter far less laced with gravitas, ] I'm not letting you go until this gets super awkward, brace yourself. Long haul.
[ This is what it's like to have a real friend who inspires you to be a better person. Yeah. He can do with knowing he's already done some good in the world. ]
[ maybe this is what it was like having a friend: vulnerable and uncomfortable. Verity's touching him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. there's a hyperawareness of her beside him, her body heat and the small shifts in weight. he's never been used to people in close proximity. he keeps to himself, dignified enough to close of anyone who may think about reaching out for him. there's a disconnect between his warmth and charm, and few who bridge it.
it takes a moment for the tension to release and his body to relax. he doesn't know how to react or where to put his hands or what to think of this. he vouches for letting himself sink into the cushions, letting them swallow him. ]
It's been awkward for the last five seconds.
[ he comments in all good nature, even if his own tone falls uncharacteristically graceless. ]
How long do you plan on keeping me here?
[ because he could be some kind of hug prisoner. ]
[ Shaking with silent laughter, she slumps with a could-be serious huff. ]
The thing is, you see, I'm a New Yorker and you've somehow got me to voluntarily touch another person, so I'm already way out of my depth on principle. Biggest magical feat you've ever pulled off, no doubt about it.
[ A sad, sad shake of her head. The blanket on their laps is tugged up as Verity gets comfortable alongside his subsuming into the cushioning, not missing the way he sounds like he might be held together with scotch-tape and scaffolding instead of his usual flairs and graces. It's nice just being with him, knowing he could probably do godly backflips out of the nearest window if he really wanted to. ]
I'm thinking ... a whole month. Did you shower today? I really hope so.
[ demands of—Ymir's balls—hugs and showers were being made at once, and he's not entirely certain if he got the short or the long end of the stick. while he's unused to this kind of physical affection, his brain races around the concept of actually maybe kinda liking it. he had moments with Lydia, as well as with the Young Avengers, and occasionally it was easier. Thor would take him by the shoulder, and his mother would put feather light hands over his cheeks, but breeching that gap seemed like leaping over a great, bottomless chasm.
his voice goes flat at the prospect. ]
A month. [ he repeats before glancing down at her, but he doesn't make a move to remove himself. ] I did have a three legged race I wanted to win.
[ Her triumph shines in a gleeful smile, toning it down to a more manageable, respectable smugness that will likely live on throughout the ages from this moment forth. ]
You're the only one I'd enter a three-legged race with.
[ Sliding back into a slouch at his side, she uses his shoulder as a cushion for her cheek and tucks herself in with the blanket right up to her ears. She might have devolved into a tuft of pink hair over a pair of glasses, Actual Tribble Willis. With a satisfied hum, the most concentrated effort to pay attention to the television only causes her to feel more tired than ever after the demons unbottled today. What matters is Loki remains somewhat even-minded about the whole ordeal, as much as he can. As awful as the things are that he's admitted to, however unforgivable, she still manages to feel safe enough at his side to trust him like this and, more importantly, to want to. ]
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no subject
quick to catch the lie that makes him swallow the irony that sits at the base of his throat. maybe he's become accustomed to it, tried to embrace it, being the "bad son," the troublemaker and the liar. he could use it, those were his abilities, it was made him Loki—right?
there's a long pause where he lets her words digest and he wonders just what it's like to be "okay." to be "okay" for someone else, and he's not sure he can find a comparison.
from his voice, his mouth sounds dry. ]
What if I'm not okay?
no subject
That just means you will be eventually. I promise that's the truth.
[ It's a little like trying to straddle being a sister and a living blanket as Verity settles in with a hug, something they don't particularly share but that it feels right to offer up now all the same. Company, in and of itself as she has learned, is usually more effective than words.
After five seconds or so, she amends in a mutter far less laced with gravitas, ] I'm not letting you go until this gets super awkward, brace yourself. Long haul.
[ This is what it's like to have a real friend who inspires you to be a better person. Yeah. He can do with knowing he's already done some good in the world. ]
no subject
it takes a moment for the tension to release and his body to relax. he doesn't know how to react or where to put his hands or what to think of this. he vouches for letting himself sink into the cushions, letting them swallow him. ]
It's been awkward for the last five seconds.
[ he comments in all good nature, even if his own tone falls uncharacteristically graceless. ]
How long do you plan on keeping me here?
[ because he could be some kind of hug prisoner. ]
no subject
The thing is, you see, I'm a New Yorker and you've somehow got me to voluntarily touch another person, so I'm already way out of my depth on principle. Biggest magical feat you've ever pulled off, no doubt about it.
[ A sad, sad shake of her head. The blanket on their laps is tugged up as Verity gets comfortable alongside his subsuming into the cushioning, not missing the way he sounds like he might be held together with scotch-tape and scaffolding instead of his usual flairs and graces. It's nice just being with him, knowing he could probably do godly backflips out of the nearest window if he really wanted to. ]
I'm thinking ... a whole month. Did you shower today? I really hope so.
no subject
his voice goes flat at the prospect. ]
A month. [ he repeats before glancing down at her, but he doesn't make a move to remove himself. ] I did have a three legged race I wanted to win.
[ you win, Verity. ]
no subject
You're the only one I'd enter a three-legged race with.
[ Sliding back into a slouch at his side, she uses his shoulder as a cushion for her cheek and tucks herself in with the blanket right up to her ears. She might have devolved into a tuft of pink hair over a pair of glasses, Actual Tribble Willis. With a satisfied hum, the most concentrated effort to pay attention to the television only causes her to feel more tired than ever after the demons unbottled today. What matters is Loki remains somewhat even-minded about the whole ordeal, as much as he can. As awful as the things are that he's admitted to, however unforgivable, she still manages to feel safe enough at his side to trust him like this and, more importantly, to want to. ]