A Gentle Rapping, Rapping At My Cottage Door

He hated the cold, the damp, and when he had to trudge through snow? The God’s couldn’t put a happy spin on it to lighten his mood dealing with that nonsense, but the coolness of the slabs grounded him in the present, offering a comforting balm to his wandering reality. There was a sharp, shrill of an empty laugh when she explained the symbiosis of their arrangement. I work best as trouble and I don’t work well with others… You do, cos you’ve an axe.

A broad grin spread across his face, mind thinking and wandering down paths of comments he’d entertain and snicker at but not air. The floor felt nice, but the view of the ceiling was bullshit when he peeked open to look. Fuckin’... idiot ruined the view. Despite his eye clearly being closed now, he’d been cloud watching through his high earlier. The line across his brow deepened as she moved things around him and once the cold cloth pressed against his face the elf reacted, an uncoordinated hand reached for her wrist while he glared at her.

Stop nannyin’ me then, taking the cloth from her to drape around his neck instead. Sober? Ha. Here’s a not-so-secret-secret. Haven’t been that in years, Dotti. He grinned then, Dotti. Dora. Why your pet names gotta be the D?

The gentleness of her voice though, even with the teasing, settled him back down. He listened, swapping out the rag around his neck for a fresher one and then deciding to shed his shirt entirely. He’d managed to pull it over his head, blond locks ruffled while she prattled on about her home. The question came out on its own during the lull, catching even Ruth off guard, What else you like? adding, Not smutty books, we got that last time, offering a lopsided smirk and leaning back down.

A pleasant groan vibrated out of his chest as bare skin found cool stone and he’d rub the side of his face into the newly acquired pillow. That felt better though the distraction she was offering failed to spark any interest than an indifferent stare. You… again a soft laugh took him, ... fuck it, I’ll bite. There’s… a fuckton of reasons why I am and do the things I do. I’ve been… abandoned, more than once, someone's practice dummy, a prisoner, a slave, betrayed, maimed, palm brushed back the hair hiding his scared socket, Reward for a Good deed, was a Gentleman then, you’d’ve been proud. Which was dubious but on this occasion true. Had my digs blown up… this just the tip of the iceberg Spiderbait, you ain’t no fuckin’ idea. Any one of them is a reason to get wankered. So. Wankered I am.