Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven Friday night
“Technically, y’know, I didn’t ask,” he pointed out with a thoughtful look, though his smile was fixed around the edges. Blue-eyed gaze flicked from Jamie’s face down to his shoes and lingered along the way back up. “Glad you did, though.” The guy looked good, if fucking tense. A twitching in his fingers and a muscle that ticked in his cheek, instead of laid back or fucking smug. Different Jamie than he was used to, by about a thousand miles.
The white of his teeth flashed wider in the aperture of the window at the guy’s deadpan, but he noted the rigid line of Jamie’s shoulders and Seven felt a deeper pulse of guilt start to unfurl, that either he’d scared the kid that fucking bad or that maybe he had other shit going on and Seven was getting in the way. But he was, y’know. Glad that Jamie had stopped. Timing was a little absurd with the skeptical superiority of Tommy’s voice still spieling around Seven’s head. But he was glad, too, to see some of the stiffness subside while they talked, car to curb.
He opened his mouth to ask whether the class was teaching-or-taking, but he caught himself before the words slipped out. Before he crossed the line that was, while perhaps a little faded, still very much drawn in the sand by the toe of Jamie’s shoe between them. “‘Was’, as in not anymore?” He cast out a line that snagged on Jamie’s hook, casual to casual. He blinked and for a second there was genuine surprise, an eyebrow slanted up. “You think so? What, am I that much of a fucking Eeyore the rest of the time?” He glanced back at the interior of the car, like he was confused by the question for half a second. “Uh, nope. Same old."