Re: The Cat: Rae and Kratos
The red ink went over one brow, opposite the scar, and wide swath was visible over his neck and shoulder to vanish into the comfortable cotton shirt. There was no ink on his arm, however, just a full hand-length of pink-black burn scars that had distinct chain link patterns in the places where the heat had not nullified their shape. He let her right hand turn his left, as his right was settled next to the heavy glass of watered wine he'd poured.
"They are not meant to be." He said this of both ink and burns, whichever she addressed, and looked away from her to think, drink, and survey the room. He returned his attention to her after a steady perusal upon each. The balance of her pointlessly tall glass received the full weight of his gaze now. His eyelids lowered to half-mast with his lack of respect for this half-joke criticism. "It is you who ruin it." He let her laugh. He had never heard the other laugh, not really, not in that way. Interesting.
"Has she," he said. It was a question, but he didn't have a lot of intonation to go around.