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[begot]

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AMY

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[begot]

[ I guess it's okay. A little victory, a small concession. A huff of breath sounds from the other end of the line — not a laugh, but a smile. (Important to convey, even if he can't see it.) He'll keep it, then. It's cuter, almost, that it'll live somewhere in his room — presumably — than on his water bottle or on a bag. ]

I'm glad.

[ The kind of response typically given to a more enthusiastic I love it or this is great! Amy-speak, polished and perfect. One concession in exchange for another, when, even at rest, he projects a kind of energy that could cut glass. (Like a wild animal. Maybe he'd known the warmth of a home, once. But now— well, he doesn't know how to fight like that for no reason.) ]

You'll have to tell me more about what you like. [ Have to as in an ask, not a command. ] Not now, necessarily, but— eventually.

[scathe]

[he's out of his element and amy is in hers. every genuine ask is a suspicious mark, a blotted mess in his head. roza had told him the people here are different, that their empathy and sympathy were real, but she trusts differently than he does. elias prickles where amy opens, with her breathy laugh being carried through the studio like she was made for vacation houses and hor d'oeuvres while he was made for shady deals and holding a gun to someone's forehead.]

Ah, you don't gotta know about me. [he says this dismissively with an upward quirk of his lips, waving the attention in another direction. the tension between them has de-escalated, tipping into more casual waters.] You good for tomorrow?

[begot]

[ The moment breaks.

She's sort of used to this, now. Training is one thing — they both have a clear objective, which makes things easier — but socializing is another entirely. When his arsenal gets pared down to conversation, it's like turning the handle of a jack-in-the-box. If she's not careful, the gears will spring, and she doesn't particularly want that. She likes the box, neat and closed; prefers not to get giggled at by the thing inside.

Not that he's a jack, not really. Faulty metaphor, maybe. ]

Yep!

[ A pop on the closing consonant. (He gets off easy, when she considers answering with don't you want to know about me?) ]

I'll see you bright and early.

🎀

[scathe]

Alright, Amy.

[a beat. silence long enough to think he may have ended the call, but elias doesn't forget things as simple as cutting the line off, and the build of a new peculiar tension rises.]

You're favoring your left side. Don't bullshit me if you need an extra day.

[abruptly and before he can say anything else, he hangs up.]