Deep crimson hues danced over the curly haired hunter as she stared into the fire that danced in the hearth.
While he could have burrowed into her mind easily and found the source of her grief, he kept a promise he made long ago. He kept his mind's eye to himself.
Instead, he placed a steaming cup of tea on the table next to the overstuffed couch.
"Penny for your thoughts?" He questioned, gaze still trained on delicate features. "Offering comfort isn't one of my specialties, though for you, I can try." - Sebastian
{cause why the fuck not?}
The hunter huffed in frustration at being pulled from the pits of her thoughts. The fire in the family hearth was welcome company, as she was used to barely controlled chaos by now. Instead, her focus shifted to the steam ghosting off the tea now sitting in front of her. She considered it for a moment, then looked up into the living face of a Roman sculpture. She chewed the inside of her lip in consideration before picking the cup off the table.
She leaned back and held the warm drink close to her chest. “Comfort’s not a specialty? Oh, well— I’d hate to put you out.” she said emotionlessly, settling back to stare at the flames again. Her brow creased momentarily as she thought back on the long silent drive they’d arrived back from only yesterday night, and the scarce three hours of sleep she’d managed. Hunt after hunt, their target seemed to slip further into the shadows, and yet somehow her soul told her he was moving closer than they could ever guess.
