quondamxfuturus | ( continued )
It’s true that his expression is often elastic, changing and stretching
into exaggerated positions in the blink of an eye, but that flair easily
distracts from the emotions swelling within. He merely raises one
eyebrow at the prince’s retort, mouth quirking into a half - grimace
that exudes haughty amusement even as he feels like something has
sucker punched his gut.
The moment he hears the words, he knows they’re entirely earned.
He hadn’t meant the smallest bit of what he’d said -- he is far too used
to using speech as stepping stones, jumping from one to the other so
fast that they lose all meaning and push as many people as far away
as possible, directing them to dizzying heights so they pay him no
mind. But you can only backtalk royalty -- royalty he respects, gods
all damn it -- before you feel the bite.
Still, he manages to tamp his disappointment, guilt, and shame down
to a manageable place thanks to years upon years of practice, and turns
promptly on his heel to stalk off in the opposite direction. Stubbornness
carries him past the dark, whispering thoughts that want to bubble right
up to the surface -- a truly pathetic excuse for a knight, you are -- and
stubbornness has him flying through the repairs at lightning speed, faster
and neater stitches laid than usual.
He’d meant to wave it as some kind of trophy (do you see? Look what I
can do) but in the few minutes it takes him to complete his task, Neal’s
bullheaded pride has evaporated almost entirely, leaving him with the
heavy realization that he’s been an ass. An unintentional ass, but still.
Which is how he finds himself creeping down the halls of Camelot, quiet
and sheepish until he tracks down the prince.
Of course, when he finds him, back turned and seemingly unaware of Neal’s
presence, the doubt and shame break their bonds and refuse to be denied.
So he waits for a few long moments, clutching the garment and trying not to
feel so small as he searches for an apology.
What he decides on is a silent entrance, delicately placing the item on the
desk and rocking back on his heels before he speaks.
❛ -- I can teach you, if you’d like. ❜
His voice is quiet and distant, and he’s fully aware that his apology is not
much of an apology at all. But old habits die hard and that particular skill
is not so readily a part of his abilities.
