10-25-2019, 08:16 PM
Raffe steadied Nox with his other hand, shifting to take his weight in the event his balance crumbled. His expression was solemn, the concern tight in his eyes. Sometimes he wished he was better at concealing his emotions; Nox hardly needed to see his own doubts reflected back at him. But it was shitty to see him so weak. “I’ve got you,” he said when Nox grimaced into his shoulder. His own muscles clenched like he might siphon some of that pain. “You need more morphine?”
He wasn’t surprised the offer was declined, not considering the example sitting right before him. Little feeling existed in the thick scarring, so that Raffe could barely feel the trace of Nox’s fingers when he straightened to stand unaided. Despite that numbness it did not leave him unaffected, but the search of his returned gaze was interrupted, then, by something harsher.
For a moment it was like oppression stepped into the room with them; such a bad feeling that Raffe actually swallowed against the force of it, half expecting the doctor and Dorian to return that instant with bad news. He glanced at the door, but it wasn’t that. He realised it wasn’t the first time he’d felt it either, but shrugged away from the unsettling thought almost as soon as it occurred to him.
He didn’t know who Jensen was, and presumed the acquaintance of another channeler. Rather the man came now if he could help, and he was about to suggest as much when he was distracted by the second touch. This time he felt it meltingly warm, where the scar met skin. The first tugs of a smile softened his lips, suspecting it for a smoke screen, but glad to be the distraction anyway. He turned inwards, one hand bracing above Nox’s hip so he didn’t fall. That teeth-clenched pain hadn’t been so long ago. “Maybe you should sit back down,” he laughed. The guy was in a hospital bed. But despite the advice he didn’t guide him back down, and his impish grin didn’t fade.
He wasn’t surprised the offer was declined, not considering the example sitting right before him. Little feeling existed in the thick scarring, so that Raffe could barely feel the trace of Nox’s fingers when he straightened to stand unaided. Despite that numbness it did not leave him unaffected, but the search of his returned gaze was interrupted, then, by something harsher.
For a moment it was like oppression stepped into the room with them; such a bad feeling that Raffe actually swallowed against the force of it, half expecting the doctor and Dorian to return that instant with bad news. He glanced at the door, but it wasn’t that. He realised it wasn’t the first time he’d felt it either, but shrugged away from the unsettling thought almost as soon as it occurred to him.
He didn’t know who Jensen was, and presumed the acquaintance of another channeler. Rather the man came now if he could help, and he was about to suggest as much when he was distracted by the second touch. This time he felt it meltingly warm, where the scar met skin. The first tugs of a smile softened his lips, suspecting it for a smoke screen, but glad to be the distraction anyway. He turned inwards, one hand bracing above Nox’s hip so he didn’t fall. That teeth-clenched pain hadn’t been so long ago. “Maybe you should sit back down,” he laughed. The guy was in a hospital bed. But despite the advice he didn’t guide him back down, and his impish grin didn’t fade.