[How do you say "I want to be successful and actually accomplish things without murdering hundreds of people" without making someone offended-
Sesa is watching Passenger, now, which means he doesn't miss the way his smile grows. It makes Sesa's stomach do a little flip, and he wants to curse himself for being so easy. Is it that he's just that desperate to be acknowledged? Because Passenger, other than a select few, is one of the few people in the world to actually take him seriously. Like yes, he has friends...he has acquaintances. But he isn't so naive as to think they take him at face value when he acts the way he does. They probably think him a fool at best, or fake at worse, but he's already in so deep that there's no possible way he could change.
Enter Passenger. A man who has managed to befuddle Sesa at every turn, leaving him feeling helpless and unable to wrangle his wayward emotions into something less insane feeling. A man who has said himself that he is, in no uncertain terms, obsessed with him.
It's alarming. It should bother him. He shouldn't be entertaining this at all. If he were a wise man, he would get up, leave, and demand Passenger never spoke to him again. ...and the thing is, he knows Passenger would be agreeable if he did, no questions asked.
Maybe that's why he's inclined to give him a chance. There is much more to Elliot Glover than what can be seen on the surface, and though he will never condone the murders of so many innocents, he knows they weren't committed for no reason. Not even out of simple malice. In fact, he doubts he enjoyed knowing that so many who didn't deserve it perished just for the sake of erasing one mistake.
It's already too late for him. For both of them. They're hopeless and depraved, and Sesa has lost his desire to be any better, if it means not letting his brother's death be in vain.]
Then I will give you my answer plain.
[His tail slithers away, drawing back from Passenger's hand. It moves to instead rest atop the mattress, looping loosely around where the Liberi sits. Instead, he reaches his claws out carefully to replace where it once was, his bound knuckles very briefly brushing against Passenger's before he tentatively reaches for his hand- soft, he's so soft- with all of the carefulness of handling porcelain.]
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Sesa is watching Passenger, now, which means he doesn't miss the way his smile grows. It makes Sesa's stomach do a little flip, and he wants to curse himself for being so easy. Is it that he's just that desperate to be acknowledged? Because Passenger, other than a select few, is one of the few people in the world to actually take him seriously. Like yes, he has friends...he has acquaintances. But he isn't so naive as to think they take him at face value when he acts the way he does. They probably think him a fool at best, or fake at worse, but he's already in so deep that there's no possible way he could change.
Enter Passenger. A man who has managed to befuddle Sesa at every turn, leaving him feeling helpless and unable to wrangle his wayward emotions into something less insane feeling. A man who has said himself that he is, in no uncertain terms, obsessed with him.
It's alarming. It should bother him. He shouldn't be entertaining this at all. If he were a wise man, he would get up, leave, and demand Passenger never spoke to him again. ...and the thing is, he knows Passenger would be agreeable if he did, no questions asked.
Maybe that's why he's inclined to give him a chance. There is much more to Elliot Glover than what can be seen on the surface, and though he will never condone the murders of so many innocents, he knows they weren't committed for no reason. Not even out of simple malice. In fact, he doubts he enjoyed knowing that so many who didn't deserve it perished just for the sake of erasing one mistake.
It's already too late for him. For both of them. They're hopeless and depraved, and Sesa has lost his desire to be any better, if it means not letting his brother's death be in vain.]
Then I will give you my answer plain.
[His tail slithers away, drawing back from Passenger's hand. It moves to instead rest atop the mattress, looping loosely around where the Liberi sits. Instead, he reaches his claws out carefully to replace where it once was, his bound knuckles very briefly brushing against Passenger's before he tentatively reaches for his hand- soft, he's so soft- with all of the carefulness of handling porcelain.]
I wish to know you, Elliot.