Because I -- [ he had replies, retorts, more quips and rushed phrases ready on the tip of his tongue. But how did this man see right through him? Through his stoic demeanor, picked at his doubt. At first, his brows draw together at the look he receives. Endreament - the word passes through his mind, and his own expression shifts to that of confusion, suspicion, irritation all at once. But when he senses, more than sees, the rising hand, his reflex is to cant his head back slightly. Away.
He flinches at the cold touch.
Images. There's a rush of them, of things that look like memories, feel like memories even if they defy all logic -- they're played within his mind. It's an overload, an assault to his senses and he numbly realized why Loki reminded him to breathe --
Because he couldn't. Eyes firmly squeezed shut as his own hand jerks up to the other's, closing around the wrist as he attempt to drag it away from -- to make the rush stop. But that thought, of wanting the connection to be broken only lasts for a moment. Whilst his grip doesn't fall away, eyes snap open as he forces himself to take in a gasp. Pupils dilate, he stumbles.
What did he just see?
It was just the slightest touch away from being too much. Too much to accept, too much to understand. There was no device, no human who could communicate images like this but --
It was also on the brink of thrilling. If he could show him this, what else could be shown?]
That was -- [ what do you know. You've stumpted him speechless. His response is a stare. There's a spark of doubt, disbelief, awe within it.
He wanted to see more. He needed to understand. He knows he should turns around and run if this really is the God of Mischief. But he can't. ] What else?
no subject
But how did this man see right through him? Through his stoic demeanor, picked at his doubt.
At first, his brows draw together at the look he receives. Endreament - the word passes through his mind, and his own expression shifts to that of confusion, suspicion, irritation all at once. But when he senses, more than sees, the rising hand, his reflex is to cant his head back slightly. Away.
He flinches at the cold touch.
Images. There's a rush of them, of things that look like memories, feel like memories even if they defy all logic -- they're played within his mind. It's an overload, an assault to his senses and he numbly realized why Loki reminded him to breathe --
Because he couldn't. Eyes firmly squeezed shut as his own hand jerks up to the other's, closing around the wrist as he attempt to drag it away from -- to make the rush stop.
But that thought, of wanting the connection to be broken only lasts for a moment. Whilst his grip doesn't fall away, eyes snap open as he forces himself to take in a gasp. Pupils dilate, he stumbles.
What did he just see?
It was just the slightest touch away from being too much. Too much to accept, too much to understand. There was no device, no human who could communicate images like this but --
It was also on the brink of thrilling. If he could show him this, what else could be shown?]
That was -- [ what do you know. You've stumpted him speechless. His response is a stare. There's a spark of doubt, disbelief, awe within it.
He wanted to see more. He needed to understand.
He knows he should turns around and run if this really is the God of Mischief. But he can't. ] What else?