@hisbiter asked: "shit." the quiet hiss betrays the fact that kleis knows he's caught, and has given up any pretense of trying to behave normally or escape back out into the night. that and it's possible demos scared him, sitting in the living room, clearly awake, rather than in bed where kleis thought he'd be. he hopes the shadows hide the dried blood on his top lip, the bruising beneath his eyes, the butterfly bandage on the bridge of his nose; he knows his hands are hidden within his pockets, but they complete the picture. guilt rises, though he's done nothing wrong; he told demos his contract, loose as it was, wasn't up until the end of the month. he should have thought about what that would mean once he moved in with him, though. "did i wake you?" (modern mortal!)
He had been told about the contract, but it hadn't quite hit home that Kleis would go through it. Even with Demos' ability to find a good lawyer, to get him out of it. An option he had mentioned a few times despite Kleis' insistence on his reputation. Why did that even matter if he was going to leave that all behind?
By the time that he heard the front door open and the alarm be reset, the tension in Demos' jaw caused a genuine throbbing ache. The fingers jumbled in his lap white from how hard he was gripping them through the tidal wave of violent imagery filling his head. Not solely limited to the realms of illegal fight clubs either. The crack of gunfire and commanders shouting orders also filled his ears, familiar from nightmares witnessing Kleis' death over and over in the years of silence.
Reddened eyes looked on him with all of the fear, torment and worry in them. But he didn't get up, he couldn't even manage to loosen the grip his fingers had on themselves. The tense silent lengthened as he licked the back of his teeth and tried to force his jaw to unclench and words to find him.
"You-" He actually had to take a moment as his voice cracked right there, especially now that his eyes focused in on the blood. "You expected me to sleep?"
