[ Admittedly, Mace is an extremely technical guy — when it comes to the things he's focused on. Where he’s from, both figuratively and literally, Berkeley’s the same as Brown, is the same as Columbia, is the same as Dartmouth. All schools he hadn’t even tried to apply to, so that’s the extent of his fine-print reading.
But even if he’d known the difference, he still wouldn’t have changed his response; Ian ducks his head, but Mace catches the pleased little look that’d gone across his face just now, something faintly smug right before Ian’s hair tumbles down and hides it. Seems completely unintentional, completely casual, and Mace has no doubt it was in direct reaction to being praised.
It’s endearing as hell — both the little dip of his chin, and the wry self-satisfaction before it — and Mace shifts forward with the intention of brushing Ian’s hair out of his face, curious and amused, when —
I'll introduce you to my desk.
Doesn’t matter how innocuous the tone, that statement only comes across in one way. And Mace is entirely on-board. Pun intended. ]
Yeah? [ Drawing out the word until it’s practically two syllables, his rueful smile turning into something closer to a smirk. Keeps his hands to himself, for now. ]
I think I’d like that.
[ The metal sheet finishes, and once it’s put into place, Mace likes the way the grey hue blends into the stone around it — it’s visible to them in the low firelight, but from the outside it’d look like a dead-end in the dark. Unless something already knew there was an opening here, of course. In which case, there’d be the wood to deal with next, that Ian’s already started to make — and Mace observes him with his head slightly cocked to the side, musing: ]
Or, hey, maybe I could help you rediscover it. Find places you didn’t even know existed.
[ He holds his hands out, ready to take the first wooden strut the moment Ian’s done with it and jam it in with all the force he can muster right now, which is still more than enough for the task. No food and no sleep didn’t measure up to the heat that had sparked low and deep inside him at that kiss in the tunnel, stoked further by the chaste peck stolen from Ian's lips a few moments before. ]
no subject
But even if he’d known the difference, he still wouldn’t have changed his response; Ian ducks his head, but Mace catches the pleased little look that’d gone across his face just now, something faintly smug right before Ian’s hair tumbles down and hides it. Seems completely unintentional, completely casual, and Mace has no doubt it was in direct reaction to being praised.
It’s endearing as hell — both the little dip of his chin, and the wry self-satisfaction before it — and Mace shifts forward with the intention of brushing Ian’s hair out of his face, curious and amused, when —
I'll introduce you to my desk.
Doesn’t matter how innocuous the tone, that statement only comes across in one way. And Mace is entirely on-board. Pun intended. ]
Yeah? [ Drawing out the word until it’s practically two syllables, his rueful smile turning into something closer to a smirk. Keeps his hands to himself, for now. ]
I think I’d like that.
[ The metal sheet finishes, and once it’s put into place, Mace likes the way the grey hue blends into the stone around it — it’s visible to them in the low firelight, but from the outside it’d look like a dead-end in the dark. Unless something already knew there was an opening here, of course. In which case, there’d be the wood to deal with next, that Ian’s already started to make — and Mace observes him with his head slightly cocked to the side, musing: ]
Or, hey, maybe I could help you rediscover it. Find places you didn’t even know existed.
[ He holds his hands out, ready to take the first wooden strut the moment Ian’s done with it and jam it in with all the force he can muster right now, which is still more than enough for the task. No food and no sleep didn’t measure up to the heat that had sparked low and deep inside him at that kiss in the tunnel, stoked further by the chaste peck stolen from Ian's lips a few moments before. ]