[ If the situation was less serious, he'd spare a moment to appreciate and draw out that pouting spell. It's always been strangely appealing to incite and to watch. However, that isn't why McGillis proposes an alternate explanation, nor does he lift Gaelio off the table to give him reason to confess.
Not to embarrass him, either.
And certainly not so he can receive a flustered smacking, but within the vein of responses he was likely to receive, he expected one similar to this. Noting, among that development, the lack of responsiveness in his legs and confirming belief with a note of internal dread. He takes the arms that flail against him in stride until Gaelio settles. He does settle quicker than McGillis expected him to, ultimately the more disarming development.
Settles and quiets with a hand against his chest, and McGillis has already been quiet, leaving them with nothing but the fact of their new position. A nostalgic twinge has him pausing. Memories of scraped knees and twisted ankles, back when they were much younger and Gaelio would exert himself to keep up. Memories that came later, long after he'd gotten the hang of keeping up -- post-training exhaustion, wobbly legs, pulling Gaelio in to lean against him on their way to the showers.
A long time ago. And within those memories, scattered throughout the long span of years, there isn't one that quite matches this.
A first time for everything. ]
You can't stand.
[ Comes the matter-of-fact reply. Out of the corner of his eye, he's able to pick up on the dusting of red spreading across the face that lingers so close to his.
How easy, how simple it would be to turn his head --
Even if he dreams, he doesn't dare. Not this time, not like this, not while he's still trying to pinpoint the meaning behind Gaelio's injury. He slides the arm beneath his shoulders closer in, to secure him in place. Staring ahead, serious and focused, he begins to move forward. Out towards the corridor. ]
So we'll use my legs. Don't worry, it isn't far. I'll avoid being seen.
no subject
Not to embarrass him, either.
And certainly not so he can receive a flustered smacking, but within the vein of responses he was likely to receive, he expected one similar to this. Noting, among that development, the lack of responsiveness in his legs and confirming belief with a note of internal dread. He takes the arms that flail against him in stride until Gaelio settles. He does settle quicker than McGillis expected him to, ultimately the more disarming development.
Settles and quiets with a hand against his chest, and McGillis has already been quiet, leaving them with nothing but the fact of their new position. A nostalgic twinge has him pausing. Memories of scraped knees and twisted ankles, back when they were much younger and Gaelio would exert himself to keep up. Memories that came later, long after he'd gotten the hang of keeping up -- post-training exhaustion, wobbly legs, pulling Gaelio in to lean against him on their way to the showers.
A long time ago. And within those memories, scattered throughout the long span of years, there isn't one that quite matches this.
A first time for everything. ]
You can't stand.
[ Comes the matter-of-fact reply. Out of the corner of his eye, he's able to pick up on the dusting of red spreading across the face that lingers so close to his.
How easy, how simple it would be to turn his head --
Even if he dreams, he doesn't dare. Not this time, not like this, not while he's still trying to pinpoint the meaning behind Gaelio's injury. He slides the arm beneath his shoulders closer in, to secure him in place. Staring ahead, serious and focused, he begins to move forward. Out towards the corridor. ]
So we'll use my legs. Don't worry, it isn't far. I'll avoid being seen.