'The sound of rain is so nice.'
;; even rain falls in the desert. \\ accepting.
“Yeah, it sure is relaxing, ain’t it?” He murmured in response as he gazed from the little square of paper that she had shown him, back upwards to the raining sky just beyond their little hide out.
A small fire kindled just beyond the reach of the rain under their hide away made of thick woven fabrics to keep things such as rain or sand at bay. It seemed to be doing just the job, as well as retaining some manner of heat.
The cool rain that pelted down sapped away a lot of what heat the two of them had, and while the tarps that surrounded them helped with keeping the breeze away and a majority of the wetness, it was that exact wetness that drained the area of total, comfortable warmth.
And while for Cain such degrees of coolness was something he was used to, a quick eye back over towards the elegant woman reminded him that it may not be the case for Sona.
Rather than conjuring up a witty mental note of the luxury of being a noble in times like this, Cain’s mind immediately shifted to making sure the nibbling cold didn’t get to Sona. Rocking off of his butt and onto his feet, Cain wandered over to his own pack, shifting through the bit of supplies he had, and finally withdrawing something - an fur lined blanket.
“Now, this might just be a bit over kill, but it’ll also be better than freezing those oh-so-important hands of yours off.” Carefully shuffling around the active fire, Cain made a move to slide next to Sona on the make-shift spot he had made out of an old log for her and with a delicate and mindful touch, laid the fur blanket across her narrow shoulders.
Mindful hands moved to tuck the woman in to the blanket. With grate care, thin hands moved along, tugging the blanket snug around her, though not so much as to jar her body. Everything about how Cain handled her showed nothing but acute awareness and mindfulness to her, to making sure not even the slightest jostle would bother her.
Leather gloved hands would linger as eyes, hidden beyond their goggled slowed their inspection over as they befell her delicate hands, one of his own carefully having slid beneath her one to proper tuck her in. So fine, nimble, with prim finger-nails and not a scar to be seen across smooth skin. A thumb moved to caress the back of Sona’s hand longingly, but was abruptly stopped half way as Cain came back to reality.
The cowboy forced himself back from Sona, looking a bit abrupt while he was at it, jarring away from her some-what suddenly and moving to place himself with a few inches distance, hands finding themselves weaved together, clasped between his knees. His fingers practically hummed to feel the small bits of warmth of hers through his gloves once more.
But that wasn’t the right place in this world for his hands.
“Keep that close, it might be a cold one tonight.”
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