[ Gold keeps forgetting in the moment that Carver doesn't see him and hesitation will continually grab him. It's when the eyes meet but then don't quite focus.
He leans his cheek into the palm of his hand, shutting his eyes a moment to take in the warmth. His face is smooth and clean but shows no tactile signs of stubble, as though he grows no hair there at all, ever.
Not because he shaves regularly. Magic, now that he haves it. After Zelena he never wanted to see another razor again. But rather than let the beard grow out, he had to go the opposite way. Hair growing felt like a threat, like once it got too long, his space would be intruded upon. She or someone else would be back to 'take care of it,' so now it just doesn't grow at all, anywhere, save on the top of his head and his brows.
His mind is far away from that, near enough by now that it's really just that last step before they're practically in each other's laps, and whatever inevitabilities Carver is pondering, they don't matter now.
He feels himself nodding against his hand, leans his forehead against his. ]
no subject
He leans his cheek into the palm of his hand, shutting his eyes a moment to take in the warmth. His face is smooth and clean but shows no tactile signs of stubble, as though he grows no hair there at all, ever.
Not because he shaves regularly. Magic, now that he haves it. After Zelena he never wanted to see another razor again. But rather than let the beard grow out, he had to go the opposite way. Hair growing felt like a threat, like once it got too long, his space would be intruded upon. She or someone else would be back to 'take care of it,' so now it just doesn't grow at all, anywhere, save on the top of his head and his brows.
His mind is far away from that, near enough by now that it's really just that last step before they're practically in each other's laps, and whatever inevitabilities Carver is pondering, they don't matter now.
He feels himself nodding against his hand, leans his forehead against his. ]
...I do.