A Gentle Rapping, Rapping At My Cottage Door

Nah, you wouldn't have to leave and find him if that's what you wanted, I'm right here, and we know I've a mouth on me. The words were from her mouth before she could reign them back in, her mind had been set in a scene of him completely debauched on her floor, struggling to keep reading the book in his hands because she wouldn't continue unless he was reading aloud. She flushed red and hoped against hope that he was too drunk to remember that come the next day. But here, on her floor, he was being himself, not hiding behind a mask, and her view of him was softer. She liked when he was real with her, showed her more than just the armor the rest of the world got.

And if she was honest with herself, which she wasn't ready to be yet, it was those small cracks in the armor that she caught glimpses of him through, that so disarmed her. He was rude, crass, and gave her shit, but there was something else there too, something that kept her looking for those small cracks, to see past the veneer and under to the man she'd seen glimpses of over the time she had known him. Glimpses of the man that kept her awake some nights wondering if one day she would be brave enough to be serious in her teasing.

And hopefully the day she was serious, he's take her seriously too.

But for that, he needed to be sober.

The scars along his back caught her eyes, and Theo prayed he hadn't seen when her hand had moved of it's own accord to trace along those lines, not in pity, but because a part of her wanted to know their stories; wanted to pull the shit memory she knew would be associated with the lattice work of scar tissue, and give some new meaning to them, before she caught herself, and reminded herself that it wasn't her place or right to want any of those things. She was a friend, and would be, because it seemed liked Ruth wasn't fortunate enough to keep very many of those through his life, and she knew what that loss felt like, knew the loneliness that could come, even when surrounded by a room of people. How damaging it was to the soul, to the heart. And what she figured brought his drunkenness about.

So lost in thought, she had been when he grabbed her, that she startled, rattled from her brain as she focused in on his face, not flinching from the lack of an eye, nor the scaring, not flinching from the grip he had on her. He wasn't his friend, gripping a dagger the whole time - knowing he could kill her he was so close. This was Ruth, and the touch had meant to be a comfort to him, something small, something she could and wanted to give, and apparently he...

It's my own fault for thinking I could be a comfort.

'm sorry, was the barely murmured response, as she held his gaze a few beats more, her heart beat suddenly too loud in her ears, pulse racing as she tried to will it to slow back down, to not give her away that heart knew what her mind refused to even contemplate, not yet at least, not now. Not... I should have asked, sorry. She finally flicked her eyes over to his hand on her wrist, those hands she closed to watch while he worked, her heart immediately charging back to life. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, of course you don't want to be touched, you just.. hells you just told me you.. and I,

Stone, she was an idiot. Of course he didn't want to be touched, he had just told her about the abuse and she went and touched him without permission, of course he'd tell her to not do that. Rest, I won't touch you again unless you say it's alright. Theo couldn't bring herself to look back into his eye then, face red, pulse still thundering in her ears and through her veins.