[ he makes the suggestion before he can stop himself, like the thoughts remain unfiltered as they slip from his mouth, even more casually with the liquor in his belly despite his intent in using the drink to distract him from all else that he's getting drunk on tonight.
though he doesn't know spanish in the way he can speak certain languages fluently like japanese and german, he's been around enough to pick up some of it for understanding, and what she says now isn't so complex for him to miss it. when it's hardly anything cruel, he still managing to match in her smile, his a little more sly like he takes her words like a dare in many ways. ]
Then you should stop worrying.
[ if that's what it takes. maybe that's part of why he likes hearing her speak it. despite the likelihood in hot catching every word's meaning, he can hear her voice, hear the weight that's carried in it, like the tension and nerves she often holds are eased away when she's fitted into her own comfort, into something that's so much more herself.
it's impossible not to like seeing her that way — uncaged, free, herself.
the realization of it makes him forget his own cautions, fingers moving without thought as they slip around the hand holding the bottle. she's pulled the move on him before, using the guidance of his hand to bring the bottle to her lips, so he does it to the refuse, tilting down to meet his mouth to the lip of the bottle as he coaxes her to tilt it for him. when he uses her hand to pull the bottle away, he finds himself even closer in her space.
he can see the tint of whiskey glossed on her lips, feels it wet on his own, and when he speaks again, it's almost like a secret whispered between them. ] Say something else.
no subject
though he doesn't know spanish in the way he can speak certain languages fluently like japanese and german, he's been around enough to pick up some of it for understanding, and what she says now isn't so complex for him to miss it. when it's hardly anything cruel, he still managing to match in her smile, his a little more sly like he takes her words like a dare in many ways. ]
Then you should stop worrying.
[ if that's what it takes. maybe that's part of why he likes hearing her speak it. despite the likelihood in hot catching every word's meaning, he can hear her voice, hear the weight that's carried in it, like the tension and nerves she often holds are eased away when she's fitted into her own comfort, into something that's so much more herself.
it's impossible not to like seeing her that way — uncaged, free, herself.
the realization of it makes him forget his own cautions, fingers moving without thought as they slip around the hand holding the bottle. she's pulled the move on him before, using the guidance of his hand to bring the bottle to her lips, so he does it to the refuse, tilting down to meet his mouth to the lip of the bottle as he coaxes her to tilt it for him. when he uses her hand to pull the bottle away, he finds himself even closer in her space.
he can see the tint of whiskey glossed on her lips, feels it wet on his own, and when he speaks again, it's almost like a secret whispered between them. ] Say something else.