[ winslow, personally, is feeling quite dramatic so any dramatics branlon has may simply fall in line with his own. besides, it's true their last meeting for branlon had been fraught: winslow near death from injuries with branlon facing down certain death of his own.
so no, it's not too dramatic.
winslow can never help but smile back, and he listens to the continued plan, finally giving another nod. it's a solid plan, and the haughty voice makes him snort. it's been a long time, even with the echo of branlon he has back home, that his lover has needed to put on another voice. or even done it for fun. why would that matter, when winslow is the only one that can see him?
but now...
gods, but the wig is ridiculous. winslow tugs idly on a strand of it but doesn't dislodge it, tipping up into the kiss with a hum and another lingering glance. ]
The shadiest bar in town. I love you too.
[ and it's likely the most passionately branlon's ever heard him say it. winslow takes no chances: he's off like a dart into the crowd in the opposite direction so soon as branlon's led the mark and his friends off, and he doesn't stop until he's well enough out of the area that he can poke around the discussed seedy underbelly and find a suitable spot. there are a couple of places, but one is just slightly worse off than the other and winslow picks that one.
it's easy to settle in at the bar and pretend he belongs, hailing the bartender and ordering a drink to nurse while he waits for branlon to find him.
when he reaches into his pocket for some of the gold he's pilfered through the day to pay for it, he notes a fussy little trinket he'd snatched is gone and rolls his eyes fondly.
of course. a reminder of just how real he is.
it puts a soft smile on his face as he tucks into a corner to watch the door, hood up and drink so, so slowly inching downward. he's still anxious, still on high alert, but he's being left alone to keep his vigil and that's enough for him.
no subject
so no, it's not too dramatic.
winslow can never help but smile back, and he listens to the continued plan, finally giving another nod. it's a solid plan, and the haughty voice makes him snort. it's been a long time, even with the echo of branlon he has back home, that his lover has needed to put on another voice. or even done it for fun. why would that matter, when winslow is the only one that can see him?
but now...
gods, but the wig is ridiculous. winslow tugs idly on a strand of it but doesn't dislodge it, tipping up into the kiss with a hum and another lingering glance. ]
The shadiest bar in town. I love you too.
[ and it's likely the most passionately branlon's ever heard him say it. winslow takes no chances: he's off like a dart into the crowd in the opposite direction so soon as branlon's led the mark and his friends off, and he doesn't stop until he's well enough out of the area that he can poke around the discussed seedy underbelly and find a suitable spot. there are a couple of places, but one is just slightly worse off than the other and winslow picks that one.
it's easy to settle in at the bar and pretend he belongs, hailing the bartender and ordering a drink to nurse while he waits for branlon to find him.
when he reaches into his pocket for some of the gold he's pilfered through the day to pay for it, he notes a fussy little trinket he'd snatched is gone and rolls his eyes fondly.
of course. a reminder of just how real he is.
it puts a soft smile on his face as he tucks into a corner to watch the door, hood up and drink so, so slowly inching downward. he's still anxious, still on high alert, but he's being left alone to keep his vigil and that's enough for him.
tick tock, tick tock. ]