“And I don’t really like you making a sad face,” Desire had to admit, drawing back his hand at last. It made a brief detour by his mouth, easily mistaken, a soft dab of tongue against a finger to taste the salt before it was back on his lap in a resting gesture. “I like the part where it means you care that much, but not the part where you’re worrying about things that aren’t gonna happen.”
Desire hadn’t taken back the hand that Declan was still holding onto, though. That one, he just gaze a squeeze. “You want me to see the doc again before I go? No skin off my back. I don’t catch a cold ever again, and you don’t have to imagine my brain going mushy if I get old. Which probably won’t happen either, you know. Chosen One, remember?”
no subject
Desire hadn’t taken back the hand that Declan was still holding onto, though. That one, he just gaze a squeeze. “You want me to see the doc again before I go? No skin off my back. I don’t catch a cold ever again, and you don’t have to imagine my brain going mushy if I get old. Which probably won’t happen either, you know. Chosen One, remember?”