🀧 @inpures … hemlock + adrian . ◜ sender invites receiver to dance . ◞
surprise flits across his features before he can help it. there is merriment around them, yes, this much is true, but he had assumed himself the role of the observer. contentedly, might he add, not in the yearning way of looking on from the outside at things you can't have, just out of reach or not for you, or it's hmm. maybe it is a little of that, actually. but it doesn't hurt. that's the difference. there's no ache here, whether it's by his acceptance of it, or too warmed by the atmosphere, he doesn't feel cold for it.
the observer, however, is scriptually, historically, not the one asked to dance. but here there is a hand in front of him, offering. asking. inviting. there is no immediate cue for him to follow. this would go horridly on a stage, but as it is, they're far from one. his gaze is cast down to meet his. hemlock is the warmest in the room. in whatever way anyone deigns to interpret that. and adrian's lukewarm fingers twitch around the untouched pint of bitter beer, psychogenic response. a parted mouth, that does remember to close once he does, at last, get past the shock. ( you're asking me ? )
dancing isn't unfamiliar. his parents yes, he knows how to dance. yet it had often been with his mother, his father. a couple sparing moments outside of that. “ you know, i can't remember the last time someone asked me to a dance. ” the flush, however, does not come from this, despite the confession of it, no. that is all hemlock. as he loosens, hands sliding from that long forgotten, abandoned drink, to press near demurely into that open invitation. as his mouth curves, something small, delighted, imbued with the glow of warmth, glittering gold. it is not the ask, but the person.
“ i would be a fool not to accept, least of all from you. ”