Re: log: antique store - louis, misha, and damian
Misha knew this was all for the best. He knew that, even real unwell, Damian was strong 'nough for this, and he knew Louis wasn't any real risk. He knew them things, but he still crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Damian approach Louis and twine fingers in that familiar way. His pale eyes were real attentive, barely blinking and not looking away. He didn't reckon Louis could materialize Morphine to slip into Damian's hand, but he wasn't inclined to underestimate like he had done at first. He watched and, when Louis took to changing 'fore his eyes, Misha moved away from the sofa.
He didn't venture real close, not wanting the protectiveness he felt for Damian to ruin any effect that might come from this. It was important, Louis getting this under control, if he was meant to have any kind of life beyond these walls. Misha, while he was nervous 'bout involving Damian some, felt real good 'bout his own presence here. Not that you could tell by looking at the boy, and there wasn't a hint of his regular smile on chapped lips as he made sure to keep himself out Damian's range of vision in the normal, human way at first. But, he couldn't get himself close enough like that, and had Damian turned 'round just then, he would've found Misha nowhere to be found.
But, truth was, Misha was right there. Hip propped 'gainst table as Louis finished his shifting. He knew the man looked like him, but he knew that instinctively. To Misha, Louis still looked like Louis. It was to do with how the boy saw things. He saw the same aura as always, the same blond curls, the same real nervous twitching man trapped. Misha, he reckoned it was real sad, and he touched an invisible hand to Louis shoulder as Damian focused on coffee.
Now, Misha, it had to be said, didn't like the fact that Louis was trying to win over the person who he was trying to please. It wasn't real surprising, but it was another facet Misha wasn't expecting quite how it came. But, that was for talking over later. Right now, Misha just wasn't where he was meant to be when Louis looked on over to see how he was doing. He was just a cool touch to Louis' shoulder, something that wasn't meant for Louis at all, but that was a call to attention from whatever old thing lived in this man. The touch was cool, Heavenly, and real pure and devoid of wanting.
The touch was real brief, and then Misha pushed away from the table and wound behind Damian, cool and familiar and a light touch of fingers to the other boy's nape. By the time he was done rounding the table and moving toward the kitchen, he was there again, same as always, and he reached for the coffee and filled the pot, like he'd been intended to make the coffee all along. Once it took to brewing, with the caramel scent filling the small apartment, Misha leaned back 'gainst the sink and braced his hands there. "We got to work on controlling that persuasive ability 'fore we work on the physical one," he told Louis, and then he addressed the deity directly, assuming it was there, listening and real able to converse. "Why bother changing physical shape if you can influence folks to want whatever you are? Ain't that strong enough to do it without the physical change? And, it ain't wanting you, so how does it feed your hunger?" That hunger, Misha could feel it like gnawing in the small room.
Questions asked, he turned his attention back to Damian, and he gave the boy a real warm smile, real proud, real smitten, and he didn't care any if it made Louis react. He reckoned that would just be more practice, and practice was what they were here for. "We could try to confuse it some," he suggested, reckoning Damian would understand. And, more importantly: "What do you reckon might work best?" Because, Misha, he respected Damian's opinion. The other boy, he was real wise.