[As it happens, it's around twenty before he finally reaches the door.
He knocks before he tries it, finding it open, and steps inside swiftly with a certain paleness to his olive complexion and a gun in his hand that he stows away immediately on seeing her there.]
[The fog. The sounds Cain hears when it rolls in wouldn't mean much to most but for him it's more than enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and turn his face pale.
Tea would be very welcome.]
Yeah, all right.
[He gives himself a shake and moves to take a seat.]
[Cain replies abruptly with a soft 'tch' following as he looks away, scowling. He frowns, shifts a bit in place, then exhales sharply through his nose.]
[Hopefully not his included, but he's being careful. Even getting up here was a calculated risk with how things are looking outside and he's relatively sure that no one is dying just yet.
His attention strays to the door he came in by.]
It's like it's getting in everyone's heads. Different things depending on the person.
[Though he's still not entirely sure he's agreed to it now, so here he is. He lifts his hand half way to his shoulder when she squeezes it - perhaps to brush her off, or to just brush off the lingering sensation of touch - but he lets it drop a moment later.]
[Truth be told he doesn't mind how tactile she is. It's more that he isn't used to that kind of contact without it leading to either a fight or sex, and given he's not really looking for either of those things right now he struggles to fit it into an appropriate box.
[It's funny. She's in general tactile. But it's usually with friends, a way to show that she cares, that she trusts them. Fighting she keeps her distance, and sex? Well, that's still new but is only with one special person.
She'll have to tell Cain all about Zack when they're not muddled in Fog influence. He might want a spar with her beloved, see how it goes. She'd enjoy watching, knowing both were strong in their own ways.]
Sure.
[Black tea it is. She doctors her own tea, bag still in it to seep, before coming back with both mugs, setting his down in front of him.]
Here.
Also if I'm being...too much of anything Cain...? You can tell me.
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A bit. Rattled mostly.
Should I come over?
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[He thinks for a moment. There's the sound of movement as he gets up.]
I'll come to you.
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[She sighed again, but it wasn't in negation. Instead she was getting up.]
I'll get the door open. Want some tea?
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[As it happens, it's around twenty before he finally reaches the door.
He knocks before he tries it, finding it open, and steps inside swiftly with a certain paleness to his olive complexion and a gun in his hand that he stows away immediately on seeing her there.]
... Hey.
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[She had gotten worried, waiting for him. And his ashiness spoke as to what happened: the fog.
She didn't go for asking that though. Instead, she came over and touched his arm.]
I'll set the kettle to boiling- come sit.
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Tea would be very welcome.]
Yeah, all right.
[He gives himself a shake and moves to take a seat.]
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Gently, she touches his shoulder, before going to the kitchen.]
Thanks for coming Alexei. You can stay the night if you want.
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The use of his name makes him look up - still so unusual when it isn't coming from Abel - and then he makes a face at her.]
I'll be fine to head back later. Don't worry about that.
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[She won't force him. This isn't supposed to be a cage after all.
But as she drifts back, she offers a gentle tease.]
Will you be staying with Abel then?
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[Cain replies abruptly with a soft 'tch' following as he looks away, scowling. He frowns, shifts a bit in place, then exhales sharply through his nose.]
... Maybe. I don't know. I'm fine on my own.
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[She thinks it's being prickly, not past history. But she drifts back and goes to take a seat.]
Just as I am. But- I am very thankful that you're here.
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Mmn.
[He tries to relax and eases the tension out of his shoulders, resting his chin on the heel of one hand.]
When people told me about this stuff happening I wasn't sure what to expect. Not this, though. This feels wrong.
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[She rubs her forehead with a sigh. It doesn't feel right in the least.]
People are edgy enough as it is. If this was planned? It's a bad one. We're going to have way too many deaths by the weeks end.
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[Hopefully not his included, but he's being careful. Even getting up here was a calculated risk with how things are looking outside and he's relatively sure that no one is dying just yet.
His attention strays to the door he came in by.]
It's like it's getting in everyone's heads. Different things depending on the person.
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But that...she sucked in a breath.]
Personalized torment. That's what it feels like.
...you sure you don't want to stay over?
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Would it make you feel better?
[Just give him an excuse.]
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And it'll stop me from going out there without thinking.
[Both of which is true.]
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Fine, I'll stay. But only 'cause it's you that asked.
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Thanks Cain. I really appreciate it.
[She moved to stand up and gently squeezed his shoulder.]
Kettle is ready.
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[Though he's still not entirely sure he's agreed to it now, so here he is. He lifts his hand half way to his shoulder when she squeezes it - perhaps to brush her off, or to just brush off the lingering sensation of touch - but he lets it drop a moment later.]
No milk in mine.
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Okay.
[But she glanced over to him, even as she walked away. Maybe she'd been too tactile.]
Any sugar?
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He shakes his head.]
No, no sugar. Just black, as is.
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She'll have to tell Cain all about Zack when they're not muddled in Fog influence. He might want a spar with her beloved, see how it goes. She'd enjoy watching, knowing both were strong in their own ways.]
Sure.
[Black tea it is. She doctors her own tea, bag still in it to seep, before coming back with both mugs, setting his down in front of him.]
Here.
Also if I'm being...too much of anything Cain...? You can tell me.
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[He blinks at her, shaken out of his thoughts by the question and the assurance, and he shakes his head with faint half-smile.]
It's not that. It's...
[Cain trails off. He reaches out for the mug and pulls it close, curling his fingers around it and letting the heat warm his palms. Ah.]
You kinda remind me of my sister, that's all.
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But she was a little taken aback, even as she settled down and smiled.]
Yeah? In a nice, sisterly way, or a naggy, sisterly way?
Because I'm an only child, but I've seen plenty of siblings.