life and its complications.

[putrefaction]

[It is a laundry day in someone else's mind.

He took extra steps to leave her alone to her task. She has quite a task ahead of her, and Nigel would only be in the way. Thus, he kept to cat naps, to shifting between waking and sleeping states.

Eventually, his throat demands a trip, and he emerges from his room with the intent to go to the kitchen. An intent that cuts short inches from his destination, when he catches sight of white-gold in the laundry room. Of skin he shouldn't be catching, a floral shape etched against the pale. White with a blue edge. Maybe. It's hard to tell with his sight.

Nigel halts, caught in an emotion unnamed. And as with all his awkward steps, he begins with words.]

A tattoo?

Comments

[putrefaction]

[Such contact he should reject, forcing it away from him despite every fiber of his being wanting the affection. She presses her head against his throat, and he finds he has enough of that otherwise lackluster courage to touch her hair. Enough to curl his arms around her waist.

He swallows.]

I can accept that.

[purificatio]

[ She allows a full beat in this nice comforting hold before returning to habitual behavior. She nuzzles skin and inhales the scent resting there.

She pretends the hand in her hair does not shake her insides as much as she knows. ]

...Owaaa, you accepted. When should we get married?

[putrefaction]

[..................What?

Oh, she must be joking. He laughs uneasily.]

Come on. Do I look like marriageable material to you?

[purificatio]

Sure you look munchable.

[putrefaction]

Oh......

[He feels more awkward than he sounds.]

So that's your plan, hm? Cannibalism.

[purificatio]

[ She finally leans back, leaving her arms where they are. ]

What would you prefer? Being eaten, or making out?

[putrefaction]

[Yes, definitely awkward.]

...Is this a trick question?

[purificatio]

Sometimes.

[ She contemplates her movements, the meaning behind her motions.

She ceases analyzing. ]

Sometimes I want to know if you'd want to kiss me.

[putrefaction]

[He can't grasp her intentions.]

...Do you want me to kiss you?

[purificatio]

Should we continue asking questions?

[putrefaction]

Are we in the mood for questions?

[purificatio]

If you're going to keep dodging the fact of answering some.

[putrefaction]

[He sighs.]

I would prefer the making out unless we're in a scenario where starvation is a key factor in ending your life, in which I would greatly want you to resort to cannibalism.

[purificatio]

[ She was all set on sticking to the first part of the sentence when the second part made her tilt her head. ]

That sounds like you care for me a great deal.

[putrefaction]

[He's not going to lie about this.]

I do. Despite how I act sometimes.

[purificatio]

Ah, but what is that care.

[ She wonders. ]

Is that care defined by familial relations, sibling affection, romantic inclinations, the bonds of friendship...

Ah, Nigel...

[ She wonders. ]

I will always question how you care for me.

[putrefaction]

[There is a beat of silence.]

Are you looking for a specific care?

[purificatio]

[ There is a question asked, and an answer she does not know. Behind his neck, her fingers curl as her eyes drop to the couch to the side of him. What care did she want? ]

I'm not sure.

[ Is the truthful answer, the resounding, soft sound. ]

I don't know what I want. I just want... more.

[ Here, her eyes would raise, blue-violet against an oceanic blue-green. She keeps her gaze there as she wonders, as she replies. ]

I want us to be more. I want you. But it's hard, I think. When I'm so unsure on how you feel toward me.