[ it isn't until the door opens that he comes to realize that he doesn't actually know what to expect of this, that it doesn't carry the same thoughtless craving that he might have pursued if he'd made his way over to sindown. but there's an ease when the door widens and it's her face behind it, like the familiarity proves itself to be a reliable comfort, something constant during a night that everything else seems to be going wrong. there's guilt too, present in his face when he slowly diverts his eyes to the ground, realizing the lack of fairness in dragging her into his mess, just as she'd had to rescue him back on that christmas night.
but when she only seems to widen the door further for him, drawing his eyes up again, he doesn't see any judgment in hers, no questioning gaze about his disastrous appearance, just the welcoming gesture into the quiet space of her room, away from the harsh weight of everything outside of it.
with a momentary glance spared her way, carrying silent and subtle appreciation, he takes her invitation, feet pulling him inside, eyes vaguely drifting around the place in recognition that he hasn't actually been here before, been in her space the way she's somehow been in his a number of times now, be it his room here or back at the station. clean and simple, with a predictable stack of books on the table, a few spines familiar from the way he's caught them splayed open against her fingers.
standing in the midst of the room, he turns to her again, giving her another quiet look before he holds the bottle of whiskey up, tilting it towards her in offering. ]
no subject
but when she only seems to widen the door further for him, drawing his eyes up again, he doesn't see any judgment in hers, no questioning gaze about his disastrous appearance, just the welcoming gesture into the quiet space of her room, away from the harsh weight of everything outside of it.
with a momentary glance spared her way, carrying silent and subtle appreciation, he takes her invitation, feet pulling him inside, eyes vaguely drifting around the place in recognition that he hasn't actually been here before, been in her space the way she's somehow been in his a number of times now, be it his room here or back at the station. clean and simple, with a predictable stack of books on the table, a few spines familiar from the way he's caught them splayed open against her fingers.
standing in the midst of the room, he turns to her again, giving her another quiet look before he holds the bottle of whiskey up, tilting it towards her in offering. ]