sam evans ( werewolf ) . (tamest) wrote in light_of_may, |
As a child he had spoken much more than he did now, he had been much more vocal, but over time he had had that trait worked out of him -- and that was putting it kindly, to say the least -- to the point where he only spoke when he was spoken to, essentially. As with anything there were exceptions but Sam didn't like to seem too forward, too direct or bold. That wasn't what wolves like him did. It wasn't his place. Sometimes he did have trouble keeping up with so many words when they were all thrown at him at once but he patiently put them in the right order with the kind of compartmentalisation and prioritising that only an animal could really achieve.
Jo's sudden response to his admission made him start a little, confusion sweeping across his expression in a fast wave, his gaze wandering the immediate vicinity in a hurry almost as if he thought she had been reacting to something else and not him. Thankfully when Jo reached out to touch him his gaze was already turning back in her direction and he saw it coming. Briefly he remembered the kitchen back at the house -- her house -- and the lingering shame from that incident was all that kept him from shying away. She hadn't meant any harm then, had she? Would she now? That sound hadn't been an angry one, there was no aggression on her face or in her body language. No, he should stay still.
And so he did, allowing Jo to brush her fingers over his gloved hand like that, a touch that was almost feather-light. Sam still felt it, his gaze down on his hand where she had made that brief, gentle contact. It was strange, so unlike what he was used to. "What if she doesn't come back?" he asked, keeping his gaze down, his other hand moving so that he could run his own fingers over where Jo's had brushed, more out of a kind of idle subconscious curiosity than anything.