[It's not a problem and it's the least she can do, Tifa meant to say, but his quiet muttering isn't making her feel any better about the situation, so she keeps it short and simple, silent as she allows her magic to do its work in drying him off, only allowing the tiniest of smiles to surface when it blows his hair this way and that.
But it's when she catches a glimpse of his right eye that it fades, and she remembers what had happened to it at the club, and before that, the young boy she saw in the mirrors. Remembering how it looked when he'd been so peaceful in his sleep, and how the hair draped back over his forehead, leaving him so vulnerable. It had felt different that time...
She's careful not to let the air get too hot around her hands, even more so when she combs the hair back into place over his eye, letting the heat dry it rather than the air.
Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but only a sigh comes out before she continues to dry him off in silence. She'd wanted to ask if he was okay, if it was too hot or not hot enough, if he was feeling dry enough to get some rest, and that she would take first watch... but fussing over him at all feels like a bit much. Like it's suddenly not her place to. She's fret over him enough in the past, forcing soup on him and Gran, visiting to make sure that his arm had healed alright, making him accept that makeshift eyepatch or the date...
She cares about him, more than she's realized, but maybe it's time to back off. Give him some space.
He always was more a lone wolf anyway, right?
Eventually, she lets her hands fall and the magic fade, her fingers a little tired from spending so much of it.]
no subject
[It's not a problem and it's the least she can do, Tifa meant to say, but his quiet muttering isn't making her feel any better about the situation, so she keeps it short and simple, silent as she allows her magic to do its work in drying him off, only allowing the tiniest of smiles to surface when it blows his hair this way and that.
But it's when she catches a glimpse of his right eye that it fades, and she remembers what had happened to it at the club, and before that, the young boy she saw in the mirrors. Remembering how it looked when he'd been so peaceful in his sleep, and how the hair draped back over his forehead, leaving him so vulnerable. It had felt different that time...
She's careful not to let the air get too hot around her hands, even more so when she combs the hair back into place over his eye, letting the heat dry it rather than the air.
Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but only a sigh comes out before she continues to dry him off in silence. She'd wanted to ask if he was okay, if it was too hot or not hot enough, if he was feeling dry enough to get some rest, and that she would take first watch... but fussing over him at all feels like a bit much. Like it's suddenly not her place to. She's fret over him enough in the past, forcing soup on him and Gran, visiting to make sure that his arm had healed alright, making him accept that makeshift eyepatch or the date...
She cares about him, more than she's realized, but maybe it's time to back off. Give him some space.
He always was more a lone wolf anyway, right?
Eventually, she lets her hands fall and the magic fade, her fingers a little tired from spending so much of it.]
You good?