[ He laughs at that, the sound thin and a little desperate. It comes from the right part of him, though, the part of him that would do more for her than simply the bare minimum of wash her clothes and see her feed. It's the same part that draws her baths, that helps choose her clothes when she can't be bothered; the part that brushes her hair and braids it on occasion. (Whenever she asks; whenever she doesn't ask. That's how the heart works.) It's the same piece of Eamonn that would quit his job if it meant freeing up that yoke across this shoulders and being with her in a way her parents would never allow; the piece that would take a bullet for Grace easy, that wouldn't even think about it, just do it.
The part of her that not just loves her but likes her, too — as a companion, as a colleague. As a girl.
Despite the thinness of his laugh, his smile is broader, more generous and true. The very edges of it are still rueful though. ] Y'take care of me just fine, Grace.
[ Even though he aims for levity her name — Grace not Gracie — reveals how close to the bone her words cut. With time, his smile fades, returning Peek's expression to quiet thoughtfulness. Only after a moment does he lean forward and press his mouth to the curve of her forehead and again, lower, upon her check nearing the corner of her mouth. ]
S'alright, Grace, [ he murmurs and it's not quite clear what exactly he means to defend — his actions, her words, the feelings strung so hopelessly between them. How he feels, how they both feel. Eamonn's words are another kiss upon Grace's skin; his lashes move as his gaze takes a path across her face. ] S'alright.
no subject
The part of her that not just loves her but likes her, too — as a companion, as a colleague. As a girl.
Despite the thinness of his laugh, his smile is broader, more generous and true. The very edges of it are still rueful though. ] Y'take care of me just fine, Grace.
[ Even though he aims for levity her name — Grace not Gracie — reveals how close to the bone her words cut. With time, his smile fades, returning Peek's expression to quiet thoughtfulness. Only after a moment does he lean forward and press his mouth to the curve of her forehead and again, lower, upon her check nearing the corner of her mouth. ]
S'alright, Grace, [ he murmurs and it's not quite clear what exactly he means to defend — his actions, her words, the feelings strung so hopelessly between them. How he feels, how they both feel. Eamonn's words are another kiss upon Grace's skin; his lashes move as his gaze takes a path across her face. ] S'alright.