[By now Palamedes doesn't expect to have to wheedle for hugs, but he still gets a pleased little flutter in his chest when Choso follows his hand and wraps so snugly around him. He actually doesn't expect to be lifted off the floor, and it catches him in a surprised kind of sputtering noise, too soft to be a full laugh, half-anticipating a spin afterwards, or something.
He slips his arms up over Choso's shoulders and squeezes into him in turn, savoring the fresh rush of warm contentment. The thought of un-ringing this bell is laughable, an impossible task on its face, and so bleak and undesirable compared to the rumble of Choso's voice as he speaks this close, the satisfaction of being wrapped up in each other so tightly. Like this, the bell just keeps ringing and ringing.]
I don't know anything about "western," [he says, laying his cheek against Choso's hair at the same time he winds one, two, three of his new tentacles into the loose strands, ink-dark against red-brown. The motion of leaning into Choso pushed his sleeve up to the... 'elbow'; he doesn't bother reaching for it to adjust it back.] But it looks like it can be two things.
[Casual, huggable, etc. He's never considered himself huggable-all-the-time— people complain about his bony elbows a nonzero amount; he can nitpick about that later. For now he slides his human hand to rest at the back of Choso's neck, mindful of where the Augmenter sits underneath, drawing a loopy, nothing shape with his index finger.
Quietly,] Do you still want me to read you? You can say no.
no subject
He slips his arms up over Choso's shoulders and squeezes into him in turn, savoring the fresh rush of warm contentment. The thought of un-ringing this bell is laughable, an impossible task on its face, and so bleak and undesirable compared to the rumble of Choso's voice as he speaks this close, the satisfaction of being wrapped up in each other so tightly. Like this, the bell just keeps ringing and ringing.]
I don't know anything about "western," [he says, laying his cheek against Choso's hair at the same time he winds one, two, three of his new tentacles into the loose strands, ink-dark against red-brown. The motion of leaning into Choso pushed his sleeve up to the... 'elbow'; he doesn't bother reaching for it to adjust it back.] But it looks like it can be two things.
[Casual, huggable, etc. He's never considered himself huggable-all-the-time— people complain about his bony elbows a nonzero amount; he can nitpick about that later. For now he slides his human hand to rest at the back of Choso's neck, mindful of where the Augmenter sits underneath, drawing a loopy, nothing shape with his index finger.
Quietly,] Do you still want me to read you? You can say no.