[ A rustling sound of fabric against plastic as Ian slips the canteen back into his pocket, and Mace is just about to turn around when that hand reaches forward. The touch of Ian's palm startles him into looking up, into his eyes, when he'd intended to do anything but.
And Ian's expression is very clear. Very pointed, very much I'm not screwing around here, and that's what stops the protest that rises in Mace automatically: I'm not focused on her, I'm focused on out.
But that wasn't exactly true, was it? Focusing on out meant more than just being determined to get out, even more than doing the damn thing of protecting Ian, of seeing them through to the other side of this place physically. It meant not letting it get into his head. Which, yeah. Ian's right, that's what it's trying to do, and Mace has been trying to fight it but clearly hasn't been winning.
Because while Mace hadn't gone off track just now, that's where self-doubt was gonna lead him eventually all over again, and ... without breaking eye contact, he nods. Except it's not so much a yes nod so much as it is a slow, pensive one. Tilts his face so that he can brush his lips against Ian's palm, the heel of it just beneath the bruise there, before turning away.
His hand uncurls from around the hilt of the knife, and he shifts their elbow grip so that he can slide his fingers down and link them with Ian's.
They can let go in a second, he's not gonna disbalance them for long. It's his way of saying I promise. ]
What's your last name? You never told me.
[ As he finally turns around fully, starting them around the bend. ]
no subject
And Ian's expression is very clear. Very pointed, very much I'm not screwing around here, and that's what stops the protest that rises in Mace automatically: I'm not focused on her, I'm focused on out.
But that wasn't exactly true, was it? Focusing on out meant more than just being determined to get out, even more than doing the damn thing of protecting Ian, of seeing them through to the other side of this place physically. It meant not letting it get into his head. Which, yeah. Ian's right, that's what it's trying to do, and Mace has been trying to fight it but clearly hasn't been winning.
Because while Mace hadn't gone off track just now, that's where self-doubt was gonna lead him eventually all over again, and ... without breaking eye contact, he nods. Except it's not so much a yes nod so much as it is a slow, pensive one. Tilts his face so that he can brush his lips against Ian's palm, the heel of it just beneath the bruise there, before turning away.
His hand uncurls from around the hilt of the knife, and he shifts their elbow grip so that he can slide his fingers down and link them with Ian's.
They can let go in a second, he's not gonna disbalance them for long. It's his way of saying I promise. ]
What's your last name? You never told me.
[ As he finally turns around fully, starting them around the bend. ]