[ daimxniki ; from here ]
There’s a soft rapping on the door. “I’m here, Dave.”
He gives the boy a little bit to prepare himself, to preen and settle and anticipate a guest. Instead of appearing haphazardly in the tiny apartment he knows Dave calls home, he appears in the short foyer, evaluating the condition of the floor before deeming it safe to take off his shoes and neatly set them in the corner. He steps into the living area and gives a glance at the haphazardly formed nests all over the place before moving on; nothing he hadn’t expected to see.
“Do you want to lay down on one of your nests? It would be more relaxing that way,” he intones, his voice nothing but soft syllables coated with a sweet golden honey. He can tell that Dave isn’t used to trusting; that trusting isn’t easy; it’s never easy.
But perhaps, with some time, he could convince him otherwise.
