[ Parroted on a silky note. His hand begins to rove about the plate, hovering above treats more than touching down on them, and inevitably, as previously predicted, fingers knock. Gloved fingers. He doesn't startle, and neither does Gaelio -- in fact, the opposite?
In fact, a touch that can only be interpreted as a deliberate one ghosts over his knuckle. The sharp line of McGillis's mouth loses a bit of its edge, a prickle of heat felt somewhere at the back of his neck. It may very well be one of those dreams, though it's been years... and even in this dreamscape removed from reality, a twinge of uncomfortable guilt takes him by surprise. To think that his mind could still conjure up those sort of scenarios.
But why "still"? He and Gaelio are Inspectors, at this time, investigating a branch of Gjallarhorn. Nothing has happened to change that.
His eyes remain closed. Even with Gaelio's bright hum, bright declaration and quick retreat, he stalls, his own path to chocolate having come to an abrupt halt. ]
It's still cheating if you change your mind while picking.
[ Barely a scold, honeyed words from a honeyed smirk. Shortly after that, he does choose, landing on something that seems more chocolate than cookie.
It's brought to his mouth without lifting his eyelids. Chewing carefully, McGillis leans far back in his chair. With his own considering hum, eyes flick open to resettle on Gaelio. Hands fold again in his lap.
The leg perched on his knee drifts back and forth, lazily. Ankles brush, as fingers did, the outline of another boot felt with the side of his heel. One deliberate move for another. If he dreams, he dreams. There's no harm in it.
There's no risk in it. ]
Hm... so tell me, are you satisfied with your choice?
no subject
[ Parroted on a silky note. His hand begins to rove about the plate, hovering above treats more than touching down on them, and inevitably, as previously predicted, fingers knock. Gloved fingers. He doesn't startle, and neither does Gaelio -- in fact, the opposite?
In fact, a touch that can only be interpreted as a deliberate one ghosts over his knuckle. The sharp line of McGillis's mouth loses a bit of its edge, a prickle of heat felt somewhere at the back of his neck. It may very well be one of those dreams, though it's been years... and even in this dreamscape removed from reality, a twinge of uncomfortable guilt takes him by surprise. To think that his mind could still conjure up those sort of scenarios.
But why "still"? He and Gaelio are Inspectors, at this time, investigating a branch of Gjallarhorn. Nothing has happened to change that.
His eyes remain closed. Even with Gaelio's bright hum, bright declaration and quick retreat, he stalls, his own path to chocolate having come to an abrupt halt. ]
It's still cheating if you change your mind while picking.
[ Barely a scold, honeyed words from a honeyed smirk. Shortly after that, he does choose, landing on something that seems more chocolate than cookie.
It's brought to his mouth without lifting his eyelids. Chewing carefully, McGillis leans far back in his chair. With his own considering hum, eyes flick open to resettle on Gaelio. Hands fold again in his lap.
The leg perched on his knee drifts back and forth, lazily. Ankles brush, as fingers did, the outline of another boot felt with the side of his heel. One deliberate move for another. If he dreams, he dreams. There's no harm in it.
There's no risk in it. ]
Hm... so tell me, are you satisfied with your choice?