@noxianking - moved from that ask
He doesn’t know what to do. No, that’s a lie. He pulls his hand away, and frowns. Maybe he growls–he can’t quite tell. He’s clasping a bottle with the other, and it quickly bursts. His red-hot hand isn’t good with glass, it seems. He frowns, and looks out of habit, to make sure his hand isn’t bleeding. Of course, it isn’t.
“We’ve shared a bed, and you’re a trusted confidant, Iris. But I don’t think you get to criticize how I spend my free time like this.” He’s quiet, and seething. His words bite, but he can’t bring his eyes to hers. He knows he’s wrong as soon as he says it. He swivels in his chair, back to her.
“I see nothing wrong with my habits.”
“Sir, it’s merely a suggestion,” Iris’s eyes followed a shard of glass that slid across the desk, sweeping it away nonchalantly, “I’ve even shared the occasional bottle with you, so you know that my distaste for this habit doesn’t come from an objection to alcohol. Perhaps just your level of consumption, that is what concerns me most.” Her teeth grit a little bit at his mention of sharing a bed. That fact always seemed to trump any authority she had and Jericho made a point to bring it up just enough to never let her forget it, while not making her confident it was anything more than a mistake in judgement. Still, she remained stone-faced against Swain scolding her for even bringing his drinking habits into question. Sighing, she rounded the corner of his desk and leaned against it, her hand going to his forearm. He may not have like her touching him, but it made him pay attention to her.
“Not as an advisor, nor a commander. As someone who has managed to care about you, I prefer if our Grand General preserve his brain, his vision, for as long as possible. And as that person who cares, I’d not let you pass of consumption poisoning unless I got on your ass about it first.” She smirked and crossed her arms across her chest.
