selune.

another moment of quiet, and then he slips off the sill, stepping into the room on soundless feet. he walks down the short hall, steps into the kitchen, and folds into a neat lotus on the floor next to her, resting his hands on his knees and just... observing. "you plan on +

another curious tilt, and then, vaguely muffled through the fabric: "i've never known you to give up before." faintly accented, almost posh, but quiet with disuse. there's no real tone to indicate mood: some distant amusement, perhaps, or hidden judgement? the words are flat, +

he watches her make slow, aching progress down the hall to the kitchen. the layout of her apartment is only just modified from something more standard--wider walls and doorways, larger bathroom, most things built to lower height, counters, cabinets, stove. she turns a corner. +

oh, she moved. awake, then, and looking out her window at him. the urge for motion rises; he does not resist it. he ducks behind the gargoyle, disappears in the dark. appears on the edge of the rooftop, standing, scanning, and then gone again. a hand curls over her windowsill. +

oh, excellent. i do so love being kept. [tease, lacking any real ire. the bed is nearby; he falls into it with a little huff, nose wrinkling.] we should get you a softer mattress. asceticism may suit you, but it's less my speed. [arms open, as ever. someplace soft to land, +