[ his expression sours with every scathing truth he's hard pressed to admit to, holding his tongue from unhelpfully childish retorts — can it really be classified as an answer to show up late just to say no. for all that he wishes to hold him close, there's a certain measure of relief when kaz rudely shoves him away and flops onto the deck (again, dying fish). nikolai doesn't want to be told how reasonable it is that dimitri is his keeper — he knows it, he's grateful for it — and he certainly doesn't need the reminder that the demon has confronted kaz and he still knows nothing of it. he hauls himself on board and angles a skeptical gaze at kaz's knife and his shaky fingers, a very obvious you'll make a mess of things hanging unspoken in the air. ]
There is absolutely no proof that I am the one that burned down my laboratory. [ a distinction that feels necessary to make, if only to him. it was his to do what he pleased with, anyway. ] In any case, I've been meaning to get those plans back from you. And kindly refrain from speaking to me about needfulness, when the only reason you even agreed to come tonight was because you saw the condition the demon has left me in. I asked for your company and you said no for absolutely no good reason.
[ he huffs out a laugh, shucking off his wet gloves and pulling his shirt over his head, glaring down at kaz while the moonlight gleams along his drenched angles. ] No, your reason was because you would simply cease to exist if you thought someone was trying to be too kind or too attentive or — dare I say it — attempting to coddle you. You said selfishness looks good on me, and yet when I try to be that way, you resist. You only came along because you were horrified at what you saw once you opened your eyes and really looked at me.
[ he descends the ladder to the bowels of the boat — for once glad kaz can't follow — and when he returns after several minutes, he's changed into dry clothes, fresh gloves, and carries both a lantern radiating warmth and a basket laden with supplies that he sets down beside kaz. the fabric of his trousers have already been sliced apart, revealing bandages thoroughly soaked with blood and water, and nikolai sits before his leg, thrusting a fluffy towel into kaz's hands to occupy him as he takes over the work of removing the dressings. ]
Dry off. There are clothes in there. [ a linen shirt a few shades darker than the blue of his eyes, black trousers if he manages to get that far, all folded atop sable blankets to keep warm in the nightly chill. a pair of black leather gloves sits tucked beside a hot flask. ] Genya used to make me that tea on my particularly trying nights. I would complain without fail that herbal tea is for old women, but whatever she puts in it truly calms the soul. She sent me sachets of it as if she knew I would need it.
[ clever of her. he peels away the ruined bandages and tries not to react to the sight of his wound, the gouges deeper than he remembers, fractures lines of black spreading from them. something stirs in his chest — disquiet, regret, grief. taking a fresh towel, he gently covers the gashes and applies pressure, his eyes flicking up to the streaks of blood across his ribs, a memory from faraway drifting back to him after a long stretch of time. ] Staunch that wound, Brekker. You can't bleed all over my ship.
no subject
There is absolutely no proof that I am the one that burned down my laboratory. [ a distinction that feels necessary to make, if only to him. it was his to do what he pleased with, anyway. ] In any case, I've been meaning to get those plans back from you. And kindly refrain from speaking to me about needfulness, when the only reason you even agreed to come tonight was because you saw the condition the demon has left me in. I asked for your company and you said no for absolutely no good reason.
[ he huffs out a laugh, shucking off his wet gloves and pulling his shirt over his head, glaring down at kaz while the moonlight gleams along his drenched angles. ] No, your reason was because you would simply cease to exist if you thought someone was trying to be too kind or too attentive or — dare I say it — attempting to coddle you. You said selfishness looks good on me, and yet when I try to be that way, you resist. You only came along because you were horrified at what you saw once you opened your eyes and really looked at me.
[ he descends the ladder to the bowels of the boat — for once glad kaz can't follow — and when he returns after several minutes, he's changed into dry clothes, fresh gloves, and carries both a lantern radiating warmth and a basket laden with supplies that he sets down beside kaz. the fabric of his trousers have already been sliced apart, revealing bandages thoroughly soaked with blood and water, and nikolai sits before his leg, thrusting a fluffy towel into kaz's hands to occupy him as he takes over the work of removing the dressings. ]
Dry off. There are clothes in there. [ a linen shirt a few shades darker than the blue of his eyes, black trousers if he manages to get that far, all folded atop sable blankets to keep warm in the nightly chill. a pair of black leather gloves sits tucked beside a hot flask. ] Genya used to make me that tea on my particularly trying nights. I would complain without fail that herbal tea is for old women, but whatever she puts in it truly calms the soul. She sent me sachets of it as if she knew I would need it.
[ clever of her. he peels away the ruined bandages and tries not to react to the sight of his wound, the gouges deeper than he remembers, fractures lines of black spreading from them. something stirs in his chest — disquiet, regret, grief. taking a fresh towel, he gently covers the gashes and applies pressure, his eyes flicking up to the streaks of blood across his ribs, a memory from faraway drifting back to him after a long stretch of time. ] Staunch that wound, Brekker. You can't bleed all over my ship.