[Don't be a drag, just be a queen, Law. That's all I'm going to say to that.
The calluses don't come as a surprise to Muraki when he already knows that you're a swordsman. It's yet another point of contrast between your hands and his, which are a bit softer and treated frequently with lotion. He keeps his touch innocent, two fingers hooked around your radiocarpal joint for the sole purpose of holding onto you as he skims your tattoos.]
I'm only a doctor, Mr. Law. I wouldn’t have any idea what fighters say to one another. [Of course he catches the first part of that statement as well, and one of his eyebrows quirks with interest.] Are you fond of the sea?
[It doesn't faze him in the slightest to think of another man as beautiful, let alone address him as such. It was a unisex state of being, as far as he was concerned. Anything could be beautiful. Even warnings.
He chuckles at the question.] Aside from the uproar it would cause at home, I'm afraid it's not really my cup of tea. I'll leave it to you to be artistic.
[He lets go--but he can't without being a little daring. He slides his hand back just as gentle as he touched you, but curls his fingertips before the contact breaks, brushing your palm for a brief fraction of a second. It could've been an accident, or a last minute distraction--if that's what you want them to be. But if you understand his suggestion...
Of course there's a risk. His eyes flick onto the nodachi on the side: he wonders vaguely if he'll be injured for attempting to gauge your interest in him (and he won't move again until he knows). Not that he appears threatened as he turns to observe the skyline, tapping his cigarette again before putting it between his lips.]
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Don't be a drag, just be a queen, Law. That's all I'm going to say to that.The calluses don't come as a surprise to Muraki when he already knows that you're a swordsman. It's yet another point of contrast between your hands and his, which are a bit softer and treated frequently with lotion. He keeps his touch innocent, two fingers hooked around your radiocarpal joint for the sole purpose of holding onto you as he skims your tattoos.]
I'm only a doctor, Mr. Law. I wouldn’t have any idea what fighters say to one another. [Of course he catches the first part of that statement as well, and one of his eyebrows quirks with interest.] Are you fond of the sea?
[It doesn't faze him in the slightest to think of another man as beautiful, let alone address him as such. It was a unisex state of being, as far as he was concerned. Anything could be beautiful. Even warnings.
He chuckles at the question.] Aside from the uproar it would cause at home, I'm afraid it's not really my cup of tea. I'll leave it to you to be artistic.
[He lets go--but he can't without being a little daring. He slides his hand back just as gentle as he touched you, but curls his fingertips before the contact breaks, brushing your palm for a brief fraction of a second. It could've been an accident, or a last minute distraction--if that's what you want them to be. But if you understand his suggestion...
Of course there's a risk. His eyes flick onto the nodachi on the side: he wonders vaguely if he'll be injured for attempting to gauge your interest in him (and he won't move again until he knows). Not that he appears threatened as he turns to observe the skyline, tapping his cigarette again before putting it between his lips.]