Re: log: misha/nameless
Before Damian, Misha would've noticed this boy real well. It wasn't that he didn't notice him now, on account of not being blind any, but it wasn't even his feelings for someone else that kept him from noting things 'bout the boy on the dock with him. It was worry. Misha, he was damn worried. He was worried 'bout the island, 'bout Damian out there, and he was worried 'bout the drugs, seeing as Janus hadn't made him feel a lick better 'bout Damian's situation. And he was worried 'bout himself and his lost time, and 'bout the fact that he had no clue if he'd done something worthy of jailing during them lost hours. The boy sitting there, sucking on the unfamiliar cigarette, was real worried.
"I think his sheets are real nice, but he ain't the caviar sort." Though, it was real entertaining to think 'bout Damian and caviar, and he reckoned Damian didn't eat fish eggs, even if they'd never got 'round to getting themselves faces. And bedding down for nice things, it wasn't something Misha had never thought on. It was power leveraging some, and the blond hadn't never looked on the world that way, despite it maybe being real wise.
"I care 'bout the boy with the big house." Now, Misha was fussed 'bout everything, but he wasn't fussed enough not to hear the dismissive sound the other boy made in reaction to the comment 'bout caring. "You make it sound like it's bad, caring." It wasn't asking, but it was sure an invitation for the other boy to explain his feelings on he matter. But then there was that thing 'bout being small, and it was unthinking, the way Misha sat up straighter, quit hunching his shoulders and hugging his knee. Now, he'd been having his own similar thoughts recent, seeing as Damian had been doing much too much minding for him recently, and Misha didn't want Damian seeing him as weak. "I ain't small. I'm stronger than I look. Ain't that what folks say?" There was some defiant tilt of chin accompanying them words, and it all made him near forget 'bout his constant concern that Damian was a delusion.
"You bed down. You might call it fucking, but you bed down. I ain't sure if it's Russian. I only know my momma liked it. You ain't going to tell me your name, are you?"