[ At some point between the time Mace left and the time he got back, Ian's summoned up a thick blue mouth guard. Simple, semi-flexible, enough to jam between his teeth to keep him from grinding them or biting through his tongue. He hangs onto it loosely with his right hand as he stares up at the ceiling, stoic.
Mostly.
He peels his eyes down at the start of the story, intending only to glance and instead caught by Mace's deliberate gaze.
Your eyes are very blue, you know?
He's hanging onto every word right off the bat, so it takes him a second to catch up when Mace jumps the tracks. His lips twitch down into a muted frown - not at the order, but at the break in immersion. ]
Yeah.
[ He agrees roughly. Licks his lips, and he can feel the first heat of intoxication in his face. Making things a little brighter, a little more... something.
Eyes back on the ceiling. Mouth guard slotted into place.
Right before the knife touches down, he asks around the plastic: ]
What was her name?
[ Metal hits skin.
He truly, truly is not in control of the way he jerks back from it, stomach sucking in, elbows pressing into the mattress doing their best to peel him somewhere he can't go - the headboard blocks the north, though he's crammed against it so tight he has to bend his head forward toward his chest a little.
He locks up too tight to make sound at first. The required movement of vocal chords and of air expelling from the lungs is absolutely blocked by how fucking rigid he goes - just for two, maybe three seconds.
It escapes abruptly, a low tone through teeth that are obviously bared and clamping down hard. Muted by the piece in his mouth, but clearly a yell that would've frayed at the edges. It's sandpaper in his throat, it's all vowels, it's animalistic, and his eyes squeeze shut so tight it hurts.
no subject
Mostly.
He peels his eyes down at the start of the story, intending only to glance and instead caught by Mace's deliberate gaze.
Your eyes are very blue, you know?
He's hanging onto every word right off the bat, so it takes him a second to catch up when Mace jumps the tracks. His lips twitch down into a muted frown - not at the order, but at the break in immersion. ]
Yeah.
[ He agrees roughly. Licks his lips, and he can feel the first heat of intoxication in his face. Making things a little brighter, a little more... something.
Eyes back on the ceiling. Mouth guard slotted into place.
Right before the knife touches down, he asks around the plastic: ]
What was her name?
[ Metal hits skin.
He truly, truly is not in control of the way he jerks back from it, stomach sucking in, elbows pressing into the mattress doing their best to peel him somewhere he can't go - the headboard blocks the north, though he's crammed against it so tight he has to bend his head forward toward his chest a little.
He locks up too tight to make sound at first. The required movement of vocal chords and of air expelling from the lungs is absolutely blocked by how fucking rigid he goes - just for two, maybe three seconds.
It escapes abruptly, a low tone through teeth that are obviously bared and clamping down hard. Muted by the piece in his mouth, but clearly a yell that would've frayed at the edges. It's sandpaper in his throat, it's all vowels, it's animalistic, and his eyes squeeze shut so tight it hurts.
Thought he'd have the capacity to pay attention.
Hilarious. ]