[ Of course McGillis can. As well-regulated as he kept himself, Gaelio likes to think he'd have been able to discern the shift in McGillis that would result from something like that. The shift that had passed, an extension that retreated back, intimated nothing like.
Consternation bleeds further into his expression. Worsened by having to explain something so improbable and strange to McGillis. He's tempted to laugh it off, though it would be a short-term solution. Lips begin to pull between his teeth, and he does not yet release McGillis's ankle as his mind races.
Why only him? If it had been both, if he'd had either tea or treat, he could understand it as poison. They had been apprised often of the possibility, attractive targets due to their blood and promised positions. But McGillis is unaffected, and Gaelio's touched neither tea nor cookie.
As his fingers begin to loosen, as he begins to doubt his own legs, before he can sit up and wave this off, McGillis leans. Gaelio's eyes drop to the hand on his arm, breath gusting, pushing back out his lips. A second breath, a weak laugh on it, quavering. ]
No, it's just...
[ Raising his gaze, caught then by the steady press of those blue-greens. So close, so unwavering. ]
...Um.
[ Fingers flex, reaffirming their grip. ]
It's probably nothing, you should definitely finish your tea and keep eating.
[ Or!! It!! Will!! Get!! Cold!!
And he really doesn't want to interrupt his break with this. ]
But I can't, er, feel or move my legs.
[ Ended on another faltering laugh, as that does sound ridiculous. No big deal, just inexplicable and immediate paralysis. Or, he must be making it up as an excuse to not budge from his perch right on top of the tablet. Gaelio tries to wiggle his toes, or his foot, or anything, and swallows what bubbles up his throat when his effort yields nothing. At that, he does let go of McGillis's ankle, beginning to straighten, to lift and wave that hand in a dismissive sweep, to try to pull back his arm as well. ]
no subject
Consternation bleeds further into his expression. Worsened by having to explain something so improbable and strange to McGillis. He's tempted to laugh it off, though it would be a short-term solution. Lips begin to pull between his teeth, and he does not yet release McGillis's ankle as his mind races.
Why only him? If it had been both, if he'd had either tea or treat, he could understand it as poison. They had been apprised often of the possibility, attractive targets due to their blood and promised positions. But McGillis is unaffected, and Gaelio's touched neither tea nor cookie.
As his fingers begin to loosen, as he begins to doubt his own legs, before he can sit up and wave this off, McGillis leans. Gaelio's eyes drop to the hand on his arm, breath gusting, pushing back out his lips. A second breath, a weak laugh on it, quavering. ]
No, it's just...
[ Raising his gaze, caught then by the steady press of those blue-greens. So close, so unwavering. ]
...Um.
[ Fingers flex, reaffirming their grip. ]
It's probably nothing, you should definitely finish your tea and keep eating.
[ Or!! It!! Will!! Get!! Cold!!
And he really doesn't want to interrupt his break with this. ]
But I can't, er, feel or move my legs.
[ Ended on another faltering laugh, as that does sound ridiculous. No big deal, just inexplicable and immediate paralysis. Or, he must be making it up as an excuse to not budge from his perch right on top of the tablet. Gaelio tries to wiggle his toes, or his foot, or anything, and swallows what bubbles up his throat when his effort yields nothing. At that, he does let go of McGillis's ankle, beginning to straighten, to lift and wave that hand in a dismissive sweep, to try to pull back his arm as well. ]
Seriously, finish your tea!