it would've been better if she'd done it. the skin wouldn't have puckered ; another reminder of an ugly world that could sit under the thumb of a stranger, some day, ignorant to it all. but not him. blood had stopped running, but his pulse still sat in his throat. it tripped over itself in the race to match a heart mid-thunder. where adrenaline left off and something unnamed and older than him begins to take over. threads itself in sharp eyes that willfully blunt, only just. his confession, outside the final tug of a suture she'd no doubt pull, later. wander back to hands that only know this softness in stride.
" <ты был неряшлив.> " behind the mask, his tone is level, gloved fingers lingering a beat longer than needed, " <это не похоже на тебя.> " and most days, james believes he's sure of that. that he knows what she's like. that he can pick her moods and techniques out of a line-up. but ignorance is a burden he knows better than to shoulder, dirtied gauze pinched and wrapped 'round itself in a knot better stored in a pocket than a bin. such meager evidence she was here.
neither this room nor it's deceased habitants would remember them.
@myatonements is left behind as he stands, oak creaking under foot for the short walk to a window whats blinds part in a flash of metallic. rendezvous was hours out. buzzing, still dull, wouldn't fog his mind before then, but idle hands make his skin itch and the want to settle them elsewhere wouldn't afford natalia any favors. " <отдых.> "
