Theodore Nott (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} nottfinished) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Theo had hated himself for putting Ernie out so thoroughly that night. Curiously, it hadn't been the fact that he'd been so helpless around Ernie; he'd thought that this would have bothered him a lot more, but after careful thought he'd come to the conclusion that he seemingly trusted Ernie more than he thought - to be so completely vulnerable to have not only been asleep but to have voluntarily been wandless around him and to have had a part of his subconscious bared before him and to have not immediately withdrawn? He trusted Ernie, even though he didn't really know why and hadn't consciously recognised it. Still, he'd slept there and had still woken Ernie again with nightmares twice more and that bothered him. He'd gatecrashed Ernie's house, turfed him out of his own bed, woken him during the night, disturbed his sleep. Theo had been schooled in manners and his father had literally beaten etiquette into him, albeit a twisted and subservient brand of his own making. Theo had made amends as soon as he could by sending Ernie a gift to apologise, new sheets charmed to stay at the perfect temperature - they were a gift from the gods, doing away with the too hot-too cold-can't put my foot out or clowns will eat me conundrum.
Theo had caught himself thinking about Ernie during the day since then, despite the fact that he had a new job that should have been occupying his mind, and the very real concern about moving out of his flat. It was strange that thinking about Ernie was like taking a little break to have a hot drink in the middle of a freezing cold work day. Theo tried not to think about that. Right then, Theo was just thinking about getting back to his nearly empty not-flat when the voice that he'd been tryng not to remember cut through his reverie, making him jump.
He looked up immediately, the fingers on his good hand curling as his wand could be out in an instant, but going to an unsteady ease when he saw he wasn't in immediate danger. He was flummoxed for a second, taking the whole thing in, not quite sure for a second what he was seeing. He huddled in because he wasn't sure he liked what he was being told there but this was Ernie... he didn't want to spoil the game, even if the idea of playing was making him anxious as well. He deliberately pushed out the chair instead of inviting Ernie to take the seat on the benchseat beside him, the table between them, but it was the chair to the side and not in front of him so he wasn't closing himself off all the way. That and he'd be able to dash to the side and get away a lot easier if he had to, but he wasn't counting that reason as the primary one which was progress, right? Right? He trusted Ernie. He trusted him. He'd been vulnerable but he'd been safe. Fuck it. He pushed the chair further and doing so had made space for Ernie to sit beside him on the benchseat.
"You can take a seat without flattering me." he said, but there was a tone of warning in there because the compliment, however playful and in character it may have been, had twinged a nerve. 'Ravishing' was probably not the best word to have gone with.