[He watches her, dangerously tense, a little tremble in his hands. He tracks every movement, the way she breathes, the fear and wariness coming off of her like a miasma. (He fancies he can see it. Smell it. Sometimes, in the corner of his eye, he can.)
His hand lifts, fingers curling around the hilt one at a time, as if not sure if it was the bladed end or not. It was a show of trust? He stares at her, eyes crawling over every inch of her features. And slowly, deliberately, puts it away.
He folds into a sitting position, hands on the back of his neck and elbows on his knees. His gaze trained on the ground.]
no subject
His hand lifts, fingers curling around the hilt one at a time, as if not sure if it was the bladed end or not. It was a show of trust? He stares at her, eyes crawling over every inch of her features. And slowly, deliberately, puts it away.
He folds into a sitting position, hands on the back of his neck and elbows on his knees. His gaze trained on the ground.]
That'll do.