PSL for Renart

[advanced]

Comments

[aigue]

Mmm, you're the picture of emotional stability now.

[She wants to push him a little more.]

[advanced]

Hey, you don't see me tying people to chairs any more, do you?

[Not that he doesn't want to sometimes.]

[aigue]

I assume you're smart enough to not do that in public.

[So of course she hasn't.]

[advanced]

[He gives her a slight scowl and edges closer to the fire.]

I don't do it in private any more, either. And believe me, sometimes I want to.

[aigue]

[Hah, she's winning.]

Do you want to right now?

[advanced]

No. I already know how to deal with you when you piss me off.

[And it definitely wouldn't be to tie her to a chair and torture her.]

[aigue]

[She looks so skeptical.]

And how do you do that?

[advanced]

[Without letting his scowl ease up for even a moment in case he gives himself away, he reaches over suddenly to try and give her tail a swift and sharp (but not too sharp) tug.]

Pretty much like that.

[aigue]

[It was a mistake to ask.

Unsurprisingly she's affronted that he's doing that when they're sort-of-fighting, and yelps loudly.

Aaand because she's being totally pissy, she moves to tackle him in response.]

[advanced]

[With literally anyone else, even John, he would take a tackle as an act of true aggression and fight back. He's not sure why he doesn't with her, it's not like she isn't strong enough to make it an actual threat if she wants to.

Either way, he just ends up huffing with quiet laughter underneath her.]

You sure you want to be putting your tail in reach again?

[aigue]

[She's just huffy, and if that isn't clear during the tackle, then it should be by her expression when she pins him down.

Which... is not something she's actually expecting to manage, not with him.]

Do that again and I'm biting you!

[Said tail happens to be fluffed up to twice its size.]

[advanced]

[Huffy is better than sulking, it's also better than sinking into sorrow or making bad life choices by seducing him. They've sparred before and he knows he's stronger, so he could probably throw her off if he needs to, but he doesn't think that she's going to genuinely keep trying to pin him down.

He attempts to sit up and gently dislodge her, a tiny worm of guilt in his chest even if she's obviously not actually hurt.]

You asked.

[Not that he's scared of her biting him.]

...did I hurt you?

[aigue]

[She gives a chittery little growl, but will let him sit up and detach her. Her eyes are narrowed and her tail is lashing back and forth, but she isn't going to actually attack him.]

No. I just don't like having my tail pulled, you know that.

[advanced]

Yeah, it wouldn't be much of a deterrent if you enjoyed it, would it?

[Though that depends on how much she doesn't like it, and there's a tiny worm of guilt threading through his chest in case tail pulling is worse than he thinks it is.]

...is it really that bad?

[aigue]

[She just grumbles at him. No, no it would not.]

It's disrespectful.

[It's a blunt answer, and after a moment of thought, she adds:]

Most of the time. I know you aren't like that.

[advanced]

[It’s nice to hear that she knows he wouldn’t deliberately abuse something like that, it’s a measure of trust he doesn’t want to break.]

Why? What makes it more disrespectful than mussing your hair or tweaking an ear?

[Is this a fox thing or a Renart thing?]

[aigue]

My tail is my best feature.

[She sniffs, moving to sit on the ground so that she can curl her tail into her lap.]

People have tried to kill and skin me for my tail fur, you know. It was how I died when I was a fox.

[advanced]

[He can't help the tiny flinch, a tensing of his fingers into a fist before he forces them to relax. That's much worse than he ever could have imagined, and he's damn sure never going to touch her tail without permission again.

Apologies stick in his throat, and so he settles for something else, voice soft.]

I don't think it's your best feature.

[aigue]

[That she's comfortable enough bringing it up to him speaks volumes, and she's glad he isn't asking about that whole mess any further.

She shifts a little, her expression mildly curious.]

No? Then what is?

[advanced]

[He opens his mouth and then abruptly closes it again with an audible click of his teeth, the lightest of flushes at his cheeks. It’s just occurred to him that answering would bring them right back to the situation he’d been trying to get away from.

Damn it, Barnes, think before speaking.]

Pretty sure telling you would violate our agreement.

[aigue]

[Renart is quiet for several seconds, narrowing her eyes.

Of course he's going to say that, why would he indulge her now?

Having absolutely no intention of hiding her hurt she abruptly stands, walking over to her backpack where she'll pull out a bottle of wine, because of course that's what she brought on a camping trip. Booze.

She goes and takes a seat on the log, her back to him, pops the bottle open, and starts drinking.]

[advanced]

[Damn it.

He had hoped she wouldn’t take that as an insult, but apparently he hoped for too much. He sighs and leans over a bit to look at her back, weighing up whether the risk of flirtation outweighs wanting to ease her hurt. This time, because of her loss, providing some comfort wins out.]

Your eyes.

[He sounds a bit embarrassed as he continues.]

I’d never seen golden eyes before I met you. They’re... warm, remind me hot days and days where things hurt less.

[aigue]

[She remains quiet, even after he's spoken, but upon hearing the compliment she'll lower the bottle.

It should feel nice to have won that battle, and a little part of her does, but mostly what's taking over her is a sinking regret for pushing him into admitting that aloud. She looks down at the wine, frowning.]

Thanks.

[And after a beat:]

Sorry.

[advanced]

[It feels like exposing something raw to give that sort of compliment, even to someone he trusts as much as Renart, and he appreciates that doing so has made Renart reflect a bit on her own behaviour.

He shrugs, even though she still has her back to him and can’t see it.]

It’s fine. You lost someone, something like that makes a person act out, get angry or— whatever, mostly at whoever’s closest.

[He pushes up and moves to sit next to her, to rest a hand on her shoulder.]

Besides, you do have nice eyes.

[aigue]

[She doesn't like reflecting on her behaviour. She likes being petty and getting drunk, not feeling bad for hurting a friend. A soft, mildly frustrated exhalation leaves her, and she slumps when she feels his hand on her shoulder.]

... For the record, you have nice eyes, too.

[She gives him a small glance.]

And that isn't just me trying to wind you up.