Putting out fires with gasoline

angst sentence starters yay

i have used my satan powers to make another one of these, angst list 2.0

"You're not welcome here anymore."

"Could you tell the truth for once?"

"Don't touch me!"

"I've always hated you."

"Don't go where I can't follow."

"N-no... anything b-but that... p-please..."

"You sicken me."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You're a monster!"

"If you beg I might have mercy on you."

"I will kill you slowly and laugh as I watch the light leave your eyes."

"I thought you loved me."

"Why should I care about you?"

"Get away from me!"

"I have three months to live."

"I don't need your pity."

"No... No! NO! STOP!"

"I will cut you to pieces bit by bit until there's nothing left."

"Go ahead and cry, see if I care."

"I'm dying."

"You have two months to live."

"You don't love me."

"Don't think you can escape me."

"The buyers will go crazy over you."

"I will kill your family and make you watch."

"How could anyone love a monster like me?"

"Are you drunk again?"

"Don't shoot!"

"What am I living for anymore?"

"I can't... not anymore..."

"Pick a god and pray."

"Don't bother screaming, no one can hear you."

"I will do anything for you."

"You killed my family."

"It's all your fault."

"Disgusting."

"Don't forget that I own you."

"I can't breathe."

"You've been crying haven't you?"

"Who could ever love a monster like you?"

"I will bring you unimaginable pain until death comes as a blessing."

"Let's see... boiling water or red hot iron next..."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

justanotherrpmeme

My muse has been injured and is struggling to get dressed. Send "Need a hand?" for their reaction to your muse offering to help.

thisisrpstuff

Send "Why did you do that?" for my character explaining why they took a bullet for your character.

"Who did this to you!?" Tara said firmly, demanding an answer from him.

Angus shrugged her off, avoiding her gaze. Waved her off with a hand. ”Doesn’t matter, nothin’ ye need to worry about. It’s nothin’.”

Never mind that he was struggling to get upright, pressing a hand against the wall to try to get the leverage. If he could get upright it would prove the words, prove she didn’t need to get involved. He had a sneaking suspicion she would anyway, and the next effort to push off against the wall only ended with another slow slide, a pull and the feeling of a knife sliding between his ribs as he put weight against the wall and he hissed sharply, swallowed anything louder. He was streaked in drying blood, mostly his own, he knew, looked like hell which made it worse.

"Not yer fight," he tried again, settling back down on the floor since it seemed he wasn’t about to get much progress any time sooner.

Tara found herself shaking her head. That’s all she could do. How did this Scot get anywhere in life being this fucking stubborn!? She couldn’t believe it if he wasn’t right there in front of her doing it, being this way. “Listen to me…this is not some fucking fling to me.”

Yes, she said it. She thought more of him, more of them, than simply an affair. It had started off that way but she’d left her husband a long time ago. It hadn’t been because she cheated but because she felt cheated in that relationship, like he stopped loving her a long time ago. Now someone else loved her…and that someone else was in pain.

"This is a serious fucking thing…to me at least. I don’t know how you feel about it…" She left it open-ended so he could finish however he wanted. "You’re not finishing shit without me, you hear me? If I have to beat you myself I will…" She paused, poking him harshly in the shoulder with her index finger. Accusatory. "Now who did this and how do you plan to get them back? I should at least have the respect due me of knowing what’s going on."

He shook his head, breathing out hard through his nose in frustration. "I know that. Isn't a fling to me either, this isn't about that. Ye want t'help, ye can get me patched up, but I'm not involvin' you in this any more'n that. Yer too important for that."

The poke elicited a sharp grunt, a few coarse, ragged breaths as he tried to wrangle it under control again, and he narrowed his eyes at her, not that it lasted long before he leaned his head against the wall behind him and let out a sharp, breathy laugh. "Bloody hell, woman, ye tryin' t'kill me faster or lecture me. It's not the worst beating I've gotten, an' he'll get his, never ye worry about that."

"Ummm, excuse me...?" Tara sat forward and looked up at him.

"What?" The pilot glanced down, head tilted in question, expression puzzled as he tried to figure out where the problem lay. If he’d said something he shouldn’t have, which honestly was always a possibility, but he thought it’d all been alright.

"Yes, I did…" She smirked, knowing what he was going to say before he said it. The smart ass… Her eyes rolled off to the side before he pulled her close, one hand splayed across the small of her back. "It’s very important! I can’t leave you to go on this mission without a strict battery of tests. Stamina is in there somewhere, so don’t worry…" She joked, hoping he would get it. "Nobody clears you if I don’t, yeah…" And with that she kissed the side of his mouth, half on and half off. His lips were rough and dry and his cheek was stubbly. He was a man’s man, through and through and she enjoyed that about him.

"Yer gonna be thorough about it, is that what yer tellin' me? Take notes so's ye can compare when I get back, make sure everythin's in good workin' order, didn't get dinged up too badly?"

The hand at her back traced along her spine absently as his other moved to cup her cheek, sliding down to rest along her neck, guiding her as he claimed her lips properly, deep and searing as he pulled her closer.

We Exist, Entwined | Anya + Angus

hairofthedxg

“She hadn’t figured out what had happened that morning she had woken up from the nightmare, the nightmare that had seemed through flip her entire world over, but was somehow saved by her co-pilot’s presence. That had been something she understood but what had come after her was the thing that scared her the most, the fact that they had kissed, and it wasn’t revolting to say the least. The Russian pilot had kept her distance though, avoiding him at all costs, not wanting to face the music, but she knew that she would have to eventually. A Kaiju would appear and then it was back to the grind, back into his mind. She was currently coming up from the cafeteria, bringing her food up stairs with her since the place had closed down before she had a chance to sit down and eat it. It was her fault, she waited until the last possible minute to go grab supper, still avoiding her partner. Though, all her hard work didn’t pay off since when she got back to their room, there he was, all in his Scottish glory.

“Fuck.”

Maybe not all his glory; fresh from a shower to get all the sweat and goo off after the latest (unlike Anya, food had been at the forefront of his mind, looking like he belonged among the ranks of the civilized came after his belly was full and ONLY after), Angus at least had the loose-fitting slacks that he slept in secured firmly in place when she barged in, was halfway through tugging on the undershirt when she cursed, but down it went before he hazarded anything in return, lips quirking into an amused smirk that was habit at this point.

"Well hello to you too, lassie. Hope it wasn't all cold by the time ye got there."

Casual had seemed the best tack to take, the safest. He knew the bullet had been dodged for now, or had at least thought there was no way it couldn't be, except he'd only seen less of her since. As if something had been wrong about it, but he didn't push. Didn't ask, only treated her like a feral kitten. She'd talk about it if she wanted to but there was no forcing her into it if she wasn't ready. Maybe it was better they didn't, he thought; it wasn't encouraged but it wasn't forbidden either, not explicitly, it just tended to make things complicated. Messy. Timing was off anyway, and he could come up with a thousand other excuses if he had to, but it all came back to one thing.

He loved her, but that wouldn't change regardless. It was a deeply rooted thing, would be there no matter what came next. He'd been in her head and she in his, it was a bit too late for him to be having second thoughts now.

"Ye gonna run off again now I'm here? Or d'ye want me to find somewhere else to bed down so we can pretend everythin's fine?"

"I'm no doctor, but you should have that looked at. It's bleeding a lot..."

"I've had worse. C'mon, enough o' that look."

"I'm not wearing any underwear..." She whispered hotly against his ear as she leaned over to him. Her dress was tight and short just for him.

Angus sucked in a breath at the admission, lips quirking upward into a greedy smirk. Not quite the secret he’d been expecting (although not especially unwanted either), but either way it was a welcome interruption from the greasy work he’d been doing on the partially-disassembled behemoth. He glanced around surreptitiously for any nosy eyes, but everyone else seemed occupied on their own particular business, leaving him to mind his own. An arm found its way around her waist then slid down to cup her ass through the fabric, after a moment questing further towards the hem, then underneath where he did indeed find only skin waiting.

"So ye aren’t," he chuckled, turning towards her properly, pinching the flesh cheekily before kissing her deeply, ignoring who may or may not be watching. So what if they were out in the bay, in plain view of whatever crew happened to pass through on their way to their own jaegers. Not his problem, and honestly all part of the fun anyway. "To what do I owe the occasion?"

He only laughs at the slap, the hand on her ass sliding around the curve again, then up to trace the line of her hip and down between her legs after rucking the skirt up around her hips for easy access, a teasing slide of fingers against the part of her she’s so desperate for him to touch. His free hand cups her ass, keeps her close and kneads the flesh.

"Never said I didn’t believe ye, girl. Only pleased, is all. Not everyone gets such a nice reminder it’s time for a break, yeah?" He wonders, then, how much it would echo if he took her there. How far it would reach if he made her cry out for him. A finger brushes more solidly against her, pressed against the folds as he grins impishly at her; he’s too old to be acting like a horny teenager, but it hasn’t stopped him yet, hasn’t even slowed him all that much. She’s the doc, has better things to be doing than a tumble with the grunts, could probably aim a fair bit higher if she felt so inclined, could probably get in a fair bit of trouble for fraternizing, but that’s part of the thrill that surges down his spine and heats his blood.

"Got a few tools here, ye’ve come to the right place. Anythin’ in particular ye were interested in?" Not that he isn’t perfectly aware which one she means, not with the heat in her gaze and the way she’s already damp when his fingers move to properly tease, finding the bundle of nerves to play across them expertly.

Feeling his fingers against her juncture she moaned low, her eyes closing. “Fuck…” She whispered, wanton, laying her forehead against his shoulder briefly. It was such a raunchy thing to do, to proposition him here after a long day’s work. The men here were worse than he, most of them, and they would cat call her all day long if given half the chance.

They would have, if they didn’t know she belonged to him…

Her fingers curled tightly in his work suit, the coveralls he wore while he worked on his baby, the Jaeger that kept him safe while he fought for her safety, for the rest of the free world. “Tools…I’m looking for a particular one…” She smirked, ambers meeting his dark brown spheres. “I want the one that’s right here…” Her left hand freed itself from his coveralls and grazed teasingly over the noticeable bulge in his pants. His fingers play over her clit expertly and she lets out a breathy moan, so wet for him.

“Take me right here…let everyone see if they want. Show them whose woman I am…who I belong to.”

The sounds she made sent another curl of heat in his belly, had flesh hardening before she even touched him, desperate and wanting, his own lust burning under his skin. She found him finally, more or less, and he pressed into her hand, hips shifting to gain some measure of friction when hers was no more than a tease, a thick groan of his own escaping. He pulled her closer, pulled his hand away with a last, teasing stroke of his own to cup her ass with both hands, lifting her up to put her on the same level, lift her onto the workbench. "An' whose are ye, luv."

'Stay.. please.'

Angus had been about to head out. Sure, it was early yet, but an early start generally meant things ran a bit smoother later, and it wasn’t as if he were the type inclined to lie about in bed for hours on end without cause. Except the words caught him, gave him pause, and he might have shrugged her off anyway, dismissed it as some sleepy request from the depths of dreamland if it weren’t for the look that accompanied them. Something desperate, something like a tiny rabbit hiding in the underbrush from the hawk overhead and he stopped. Backtracked, moved towards her cot with a slow nod and a sigh that wasn’t filled with much regret, really. No duty here, only recognition. It wasn’t anything conscious, the link didn’t really work that way, but she was spooked, and the cause didn’t matter. He moved to her cot and sat down carefully on the mattress with another nod. ”Alrigh’. Not goin’ anywhere, girl.” He didn’t ask, not yet. They’d get to that.

Maybe it was because she was scared, and she needed someone to work out all her fears, but deep down, she knew that he wouldn’t be the one to do that on, so that couldn’t be reason why she was still latched on to his lips. The reason was mysterious to her as well, but she didn’t dare solve it now, not when he whispered her name in between heated breaths. This was making the nightmare fade away, so she didn’t stop, building up the fort so it wouldn’t come back.

Her hands explored him, wondering why he was wearing so much clothes, it bothered her, angered her even, but she kept calm, not wanting to startle him, because that connection was too real, too powerful that something like this was mediocre in contrast. So, she pulled away from his lips, his voice saying her name echoing on her mind as she rested her head on his shoulder, hand lay across his shoulders and she tried to catch her breath. Her slammed against her chest, and she couldn’t help but realize that she enjoyed that a little too much. “What Irish magic do those lips possess, Angus-beef, huh?” she whispered, a soft giggle slipped from her lips as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

He'd already rucked up the edge of her shirt some by the time she pulled away, skin to skin as he slid a calloused hand across it, soothing, like a mother might to a sick child if slower, taking his time as if trying to savor the feel. She was already in his head, under his hands felt...right, somehow, even if he couldn't really explain it, even if training had always said that wasn't a part of it, and he'd never felt compelled the same way with Trevor. Hands travel across him and he more than half hoped they'd go somewhere good, something to appease the heat filling his veins as they travelled, but they didn't. She pulled back, took his breath with her and he bent to press a kiss just behind her ear as tried to call it back and she nuzzled, breath hot against skin and voice rough and brogue thicker with what she'd started. "Scottish, ye bloody cow," he countered, free hand sliding down to swat her behind teasingly before cupping it more firmly. "An' wouldn't ye like t'know. Guessin' yer feelin' a mite better now."

Hurt rp Starters

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! You don't want to get even more hurt, do you?"

"Tell me where it hurts."

"Whoa, that's purple... It looks like your shoulder is dislocated."

"Oh my god. Are you okay?"

"You're bleeding... You're bleeding bad..."

"This is gonna hurt..."

"Holy crap! I may not know much about human anatomy, but legs don't bend that way!"

"It's all swollen up..."

"You have a black eye. Where you fighting with someone?"

"Okay... Okay, hospital. Hospital, now."

"I think you have a concussion."

"Calm down! Calm down! Your ankle is sprained, okay?"

"Here, lean on me."

"I'm gonna need more bandaids..."

"What the hell happened to you!?"

"Here, I need to clean you up. This might sting a bit..."

"We need to get the bullet out..."

"Oh my god, you've been shot!"

"Did... did you get beat up!?"

"Just hold on. You're gonna be fine..."

"Look out for that car!"

"Wake up! Oh god, please wake up!"

"You're alive! Oh, thank god!"

"I'm no doctor, but you should have that looked at. It's bleeding a lot..."

"What is that? Are there bandages under your shirt?"

"Why is your arm wrapped up like that? And are those blood stains!?"

"You must have hit the back of your head really hard."

"Look at me. Just look at me and stay awake. Can you do that?"

#open rp

"Who did this to you!?" Tara said firmly, demanding an answer from him.

Angus shrugged her off, avoiding her gaze. Waved her off with a hand. ”Doesn’t matter, nothin’ ye need to worry about. It’s nothin’.”

Never mind that he was struggling to get upright, pressing a hand against the wall to try to get the leverage. If he could get upright it would prove the words, prove she didn’t need to get involved. He had a sneaking suspicion she would anyway, and the next effort to push off against the wall only ended with another slow slide, a pull and the feeling of a knife sliding between his ribs as he put weight against the wall and he hissed sharply, swallowed anything louder. He was streaked in drying blood, mostly his own, he knew, looked like hell which made it worse.

"Not yer fight," he tried again, settling back down on the floor since it seemed he wasn’t about to get much progress any time sooner.

Angus was hurt. That much was more than obvious. It was blatant. “Shit…” She came close to him, offering her arms, her body for support. “How can you say it doesn’t matter!?” Tara asked, incredulous. “Of course it matters! It matters to me!” She’s shaking with anger. “Tell me who did this! I’m gonna end them!” Her heart constricted painfully with the need to hold him, to love him. It broke her heart, seeing him like this.

"I love you…don’t…don’t do this, don’t push me away." She looked around before staring at him, unwavering. "Anything, anyone that hurts you hurts me. It’s my fight, too…you’re wrong."

The pilot shook his head but reached for her, tried to pull her down to his level. "No. It's mine. I'm the one ended up in this mess, I don't need ye gettin' involved in it. Anyone's gonna finish it, it's gonna be me."

A beat to consider, to contemplate trying to stand again, but it only lasted the beat. He looked at her, gaze intent, reached for her to make sure she was paying attention. Make sure she was listening. "After ye fix me up, since we both know that's what ye do best. Alrigh'?" It was important she understand, important she agree. If she got herself mixed up in it and ended up hurt or worse, he'd never forgive himself for it. He needed her to understand.

Zzz

Well that….wasn’t quite the scene Angus had expected to walk into.

Admittedly, it had been a long, seemingly endless mission. Very exciting, to a certain definition, certainly difficult. Taxing. He’d be the first to admit he was wiped himself. But he’d figured food ranked slightly higher as a need, so he’d gone down to the mess to grab something, wolfed it down in huge, greedy bites as he made his way through the line then grabbed a few things for his partner before heading back to bunk down.

He had expected her to be asleep, sure. A slip of a thing like she was, he would have been more surprised to find her conscious, had been half impressed he hadn’t needed to carry her back to begin with. Asleep, stretched out in his own bunk and without a stitch on (her clothes — all of them — were strewn on the floor as if she’d gotten out of them as quickly as she could before she dropped, he would have given her the benefit of the doubt otherwise) was not exactly a configuration he’d anticipated.

The pilot carefully placed the tray on the table then slunk his way over to her, crouched down to be on eye level (he would regret it in a moment, he could feel that much already as everything seemed to creak and he never felt so old as she teased him about until he’d had some time to settle into the soreness after a skirmish) and blew on her nose.

"C’mon, Goldilocks, papa bear needs his beauty sleep too."

She giggled, unable to help herself any longer. Anya enjoyed the way he touched her, and maybe it had been buried deep inside of her. This want for him, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t the craziest thing they had done together, not even in the top ten. Of course, they all dealt with kaiju’s and nothing else. They knew each other personally, more than that actually and they really hadn’t known each other in that way, so this was really new for the both of them. Anya traced circles around his chest, but then he was on top of her, pinning her down and she squirmed, squealing like a little girl. “Stop it Agnus-beef, it’s not fair you’re much stronger than me…” she said silkily, batting her blue eyes at him. “Trying” to break away from him, but it was only for show. She was enjoying this much more than intended.

"Don’t look at me! Not my fault you’re old Angus, not my fault at all." she huffed, biting her bottom lip as she looked at him seductively.

"An' it's not fair yer in my bed wi'out any bloody clothes on," he countered, leaning in close to hiss in her ear as his hand travelled from tickling her side towards her hip. Fingers dug in roughly, pressing down to keep her solidly in place. This was quickly devolving, he could feel it already; the look was enough for the heat to spread from only where he touched her towards the rest of him, to settle low in his belly.

"Life's not fair that often."

It wasn't that Angus had never thought of her that way, exactly, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't. Late at night, when he was sure she was asleep...safer to consider then. Because what they had was deeper than the physical, it seemed somehow indecent to cloud it with that. So he'd found it elsewhere, a series of meaningless fucks to replace the one he'd wanted but forbidden himself from. But tonight seemed to be designed to screw with him.

"An' I'm not that old," he continued, this time barely above a growl, the hand not intent on keeping her in place moving to tickle her side mercilessly, seeking out all the sensitive areas and attacking them with equal fervor.

'Stay.. please.'

Angus had been about to head out. Sure, it was early yet, but an early start generally meant things ran a bit smoother later, and it wasn’t as if he were the type inclined to lie about in bed for hours on end without cause. Except the words caught him, gave him pause, and he might have shrugged her off anyway, dismissed it as some sleepy request from the depths of dreamland if it weren’t for the look that accompanied them. Something desperate, something like a tiny rabbit hiding in the underbrush from the hawk overhead and he stopped. Backtracked, moved towards her cot with a slow nod and a sigh that wasn’t filled with much regret, really. No duty here, only recognition. It wasn’t anything conscious, the link didn’t really work that way, but she was spooked, and the cause didn’t matter. He moved to her cot and sat down carefully on the mattress with another nod. ”Alrigh’. Not goin’ anywhere, girl.” He didn’t ask, not yet. They’d get to that.

Anya nuzzled against his chest and glanced up at him, big, blue eyes focused on his lovely, wrinkled face. She felt like a little girl, and maybe she was acting like one but she didn’t care. Her nightmare felt too real and it scared her half to death. He began to sing and she stared at him with her mouth hung wide open. It was beautiful, and she was on the urge of tears by it.

She kept reminding herself over and over in her mind that she was better than that junkie she used to be. That she had got out of that hell hole and made something out of herself. She saved the world constantly. and becoming that person again was not what she wanted to do.

Something then went over Anya and she lifted herself a bit, leaning slowly toward him, and pressed her lips against his, tongue traced his bottom lip for a teasing moment until she deepened the kiss, now humming the sweet lullaby in her mind.

It didn’t matter, how old she was, how strong she was the rest of the time. Everyone had their moments, was owed their time to let the walls down, and if she had to, it was better company than most. Safer company than most. Angus swayed slightly to the rhythm, kept her close, and if he noticed the tears lurking in her eyes he didn’t say anything, only left her to them without question or judgment.

He studiously kept his gaze away from her, only lended solidity and warmth and a tune, left the rest for her to take as she needed it, and that was largely the reason he didn’t catch the shift until she was already in motion, weight shifting, and his arms slid to accommodate on autopilot but then there were lips on his, the slide of tongue, damp and hot and it certainly wasn’t advisable, what he did next, not in her current state, but it was reflex to open to her, instinct, lips parting to admit her and her name on them, something confused and reverent in the two syllables as they passed into the space of shared breath. Fingers tightened against her where hands rested as he shifted his own weight to meet her, to accommodate.

"Who did this to you!?" Tara said firmly, demanding an answer from him.

Angus shrugged her off, avoiding her gaze. Waved her off with a hand. ”Doesn’t matter, nothin’ ye need to worry about. It’s nothin’.”

Never mind that he was struggling to get upright, pressing a hand against the wall to try to get the leverage. If he could get upright it would prove the words, prove she didn’t need to get involved. He had a sneaking suspicion she would anyway, and the next effort to push off against the wall only ended with another slow slide, a pull and the feeling of a knife sliding between his ribs as he put weight against the wall and he hissed sharply, swallowed anything louder. He was streaked in drying blood, mostly his own, he knew, looked like hell which made it worse.

"Not yer fight," he tried again, settling back down on the floor since it seemed he wasn’t about to get much progress any time sooner.

Zzz

Well that….wasn’t quite the scene Angus had expected to walk into.

Admittedly, it had been a long, seemingly endless mission. Very exciting, to a certain definition, certainly difficult. Taxing. He’d be the first to admit he was wiped himself. But he’d figured food ranked slightly higher as a need, so he’d gone down to the mess to grab something, wolfed it down in huge, greedy bites as he made his way through the line then grabbed a few things for his partner before heading back to bunk down.

He had expected her to be asleep, sure. A slip of a thing like she was, he would have been more surprised to find her conscious, had been half impressed he hadn’t needed to carry her back to begin with. Asleep, stretched out in his own bunk and without a stitch on (her clothes — all of them — were strewn on the floor as if she’d gotten out of them as quickly as she could before she dropped, he would have given her the benefit of the doubt otherwise) was not exactly a configuration he’d anticipated.

The pilot carefully placed the tray on the table then slunk his way over to her, crouched down to be on eye level (he would regret it in a moment, he could feel that much already as everything seemed to creak and he never felt so old as she teased him about until he’d had some time to settle into the soreness after a skirmish) and blew on her nose.

"C’mon, Goldilocks, papa bear needs his beauty sleep too."

She slid her hand underneath his soft shirt and gently ran her fingers up towards his chest, trying to find a place to grip but it was no use, so she kept on brushing her hand across his worn skin, until she finally found a comfortable spot to rest her hand in. He was so comfortable, and she couldn’t get enough.

Her lips stayed clenched onto his shirt, but then she lifted it with her chin and pressed her chapped lips against his skin, tongue massaged his skin. She couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. Anya was being daring, and she couldn’t help it with him around, but she stopped when he slapped her ass. Anya giggled, pressed a kiss against his skin and pulled away. Her hand was still resting on his chest underneath his shirt though. “I’m so ashamed, you should teach me a lesson…”

The feel of fingertips tracing along skin caught his breath for a moment, coupled with lips pressed to follow it was practically dangerous. He'd known it was a bad idea to lie down in the first place, should have just bunked down in her bed, solved the problem entirely, but the problem was that it wasn't a problem. Wasn't exactly an experience he was protesting, not with the surprised groan she pulled out of him, but hand made contact and she retreated. His hand didn't leave her ass after though, which he supposed was only fair considering the hand on his chest, contact that practically seared, but it was all brotherly teasing that prompted him to shift his weight towards her, or so he told himself.

He grinned widely, moved to pin her like kids do when roughhousing, reached to exploit the areas most sensitive to tickling.

In retrospect, maybe not the best idea considering her state of undress, but hey. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Oh, I plan to. Ye little brat, d'you have any idea how many gray hairs ye've given me since we started?"

'Stay.. please.'

Angus had been about to head out. Sure, it was early yet, but an early start generally meant things ran a bit smoother later, and it wasn’t as if he were the type inclined to lie about in bed for hours on end without cause. Except the words caught him, gave him pause, and he might have shrugged her off anyway, dismissed it as some sleepy request from the depths of dreamland if it weren’t for the look that accompanied them. Something desperate, something like a tiny rabbit hiding in the underbrush from the hawk overhead and he stopped. Backtracked, moved towards her cot with a slow nod and a sigh that wasn’t filled with much regret, really. No duty here, only recognition. It wasn’t anything conscious, the link didn’t really work that way, but she was spooked, and the cause didn’t matter. He moved to her cot and sat down carefully on the mattress with another nod. ”Alrigh’. Not goin’ anywhere, girl.” He didn’t ask, not yet. They’d get to that.

She closed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears because there was nothing actually wrong. It was just the demons nipping at her to come back to the life she lived before she enrolled into the academy. Anya did what she was told by her co-pilot and focused on the roughness of the fabric of his pants and then decided that he needed to get a new pair of pants or something. She would shop for him later, but for now, her head on his lap was doing wonders. Anya tightened her grip and giggled softly. “Maybe a lullaby that your ma used to sing to you — or maybe a flogging molly’s song.” Anya grinned, and nuzzled back into his lap.

"Only if ye promise t’get yer head up off my thigh," he teased softly, tugging at her hair lightly. "Fairly sure just about every bit of woman trouble I ever got into started with her head in me lap."

She was already testing him as it was, particularly every time she nuzzled. Every time she grabbed at him.

Dispelling the darkness in the air seemed the best course of action, so he teased easily, and often, stepped away from anything too serious. A light swat of her backside and he pulled her more bodily into his lap, pulled her against his chest. At least half the ‘magic’ of the lullaby was in positioning and the soothing sway, and the only rocking he could do with her where she was wasn’t anything close. So he gathered her up, made a show of considering. ”Ye make it sound like that’s all I know. Should probably be offended the best ye got for me’s an Irish band.”

Not that it was a bad call. A moment or three to gather himself and decide, and he started, slower than it was actually meant to be, maybe, but it was a lullaby. You didn’t sing them full speed for that.