Devlin could hardly remember how it started, not that it mattered anymore. He’d been searching for herbs in the forest, and now shuddering with each succession of kisses. Somewhere in the back of his head, it felt wrong, but the thought that he was finally got to Priest and that so far, nothing bad happened- the other pushing him away was something he’d describe as bad- he’d saw things were going swell now. He couldn’t understand his sudden desire to perform this way, since he usually had better control than this. Yet something about this felt familiar- a similar association of death that was not all that malign. He can only attempt to describe it but he would never get close.
"Usually a handshake suffices for me, that is if I ever do greet anyone. What’s your name?" He’d like something to address him by.
Slipping into conversation after that was oddly easy, but hey, Priest wasn't going to bring it up. Not now, at least. The man seemed friendly enough, so there was no reason to yet question his actions.
"I'm Priest," he introduced himself, a smile flitting across his lips--the lips that had, up until just a few moments ago, had been held against the other man's. ...The man whom Priest didn't know the name of.
Realizing this, he squinted, as if he could guess just by staring at him. But that was a silly thought. Obviously he'd have to ask.
"And who are you?"
