[ clarisse doesn't expect him to return the gesture. what she was expecting was for it to all be over and done with in a matter of seconds — but instead it turns into something else. something she can't quite ignore but forces herself to because if she starts to think about it, it will only end badly. she's treading in dangerous waters here, and if she ends up any deeper, she's going to drown.
she knows she should pull her hand away and resume following him at a less friendly proximity, just in case anyone is around, but he's walking so fast she barely has time to think about the way their hands are entwined. she always knew hermes kids were fast on their feet — battle reflexes rivaling only hers — it's just been a while since she's been in a situation where she's had to follow one. chris always kept close to her, anyway, always tucked under her shoulder with his arm hugging her waist. it felt good being the taller one, the stronger one, the one he looked to for protection and safe haven — in return, he was the one she went to when she felt her weakest. she thinks now maybe she hadn't given him enough.
she'd never really noticed how long luke's fingers were until this very moment, the moment in which she's being pulled along through another intersection just before the light changes, leaving less reckless and annoyed pedestrians in their wake as they cross over to the other side. his fingers are strong as they are long, locking their hands together in a way that almost makes her blush, while the sudden burst of speed to avoid impatient cars is nearly exhilarating. not as exhilarating as sparring with him used to be, or as exhilarating as the heat of battle, but it's something. it's something that gets her heart racing in more ways than she'd like to admit.
so, of course, once they're safely on the other side, she finally tugs her hand free of his and shoots him a half-hearted glare. there isn't much passion in it because she's not actually mad — she's frustrated that she might have enjoyed that little stunt, that she might have enjoyed holding hands with him at all, and most importantly that she doesn't really have a good reason to be mad at him because she'd started it. she can't even say she regrets it, which annoys her even more. ]
Idiot. You could've gotten us killed.
[ she's projecting and she knows it, but she doesn't know what else to do with these feelings. pinning it on him narrowly managing to avoid them getting run over by new york traffic seems like the best option at the moment. ]
no subject
she knows she should pull her hand away and resume following him at a less friendly proximity, just in case anyone is around, but he's walking so fast she barely has time to think about the way their hands are entwined. she always knew hermes kids were fast on their feet — battle reflexes rivaling only hers — it's just been a while since she's been in a situation where she's had to follow one. chris always kept close to her, anyway, always tucked under her shoulder with his arm hugging her waist. it felt good being the taller one, the stronger one, the one he looked to for protection and safe haven — in return, he was the one she went to when she felt her weakest. she thinks now maybe she hadn't given him enough.
she'd never really noticed how long luke's fingers were until this very moment, the moment in which she's being pulled along through another intersection just before the light changes, leaving less reckless and annoyed pedestrians in their wake as they cross over to the other side. his fingers are strong as they are long, locking their hands together in a way that almost makes her blush, while the sudden burst of speed to avoid impatient cars is nearly exhilarating. not as exhilarating as sparring with him used to be, or as exhilarating as the heat of battle, but it's something. it's something that gets her heart racing in more ways than she'd like to admit.
so, of course, once they're safely on the other side, she finally tugs her hand free of his and shoots him a half-hearted glare. there isn't much passion in it because she's not actually mad — she's frustrated that she might have enjoyed that little stunt, that she might have enjoyed holding hands with him at all, and most importantly that she doesn't really have a good reason to be mad at him because she'd started it. she can't even say she regrets it, which annoys her even more. ]
Idiot. You could've gotten us killed.
[ she's projecting and she knows it, but she doesn't know what else to do with these feelings. pinning it on him narrowly managing to avoid them getting run over by new york traffic seems like the best option at the moment. ]