Re: Log: Damian/Misha
Misha wasn't dressed for going anywhere. He'd been sleeping, and he'd tossed on raggedy clothes when he'd heard the piano music, and his hair was sticking up all over messy and sweat-cling on his head. It was still cool out, but the boy was sticky from the exertion that came with playing, and his boots were heavy and black and untied.
He'd climbed the long staircase on up to Damian's room with real long strides, and he knew Damian had cameras all over. He reckoned Damian's daddy had just as many cameras all over, and he wondered over going through life watching for trouble to come. Misha, he never did look for trouble to come. He knew it came, trouble, whether it was looked after or not, and he reckoned he could handle it just as well unawares. Now, he knew that was the case only on account of him not having anything to make preparations with. If a ninja sprung on him unawares, he'd be just as effective as if he'd seen the thing coming from a mile off. He knew Damian and Damian's daddy had weapons and training and ways to deal with things that made knowing 'bout them effective.
And that was all real useful thinking while Misha took long strides. It was easier some than getting himself all fussed 'bout Damian's mood tonight, which Misha couldn't put his finger on just right. It was like his touch kept slipping, and he couldn't read what was going on with the boy balancing way on up on that window's ledge.
He didn't knock.
Misha turned the knob, walked in on a real long stride that was all tall, lanky boy, and he closed the door real firmly after himself. Tonight, the boy was all boy. From the torn clothes to the look on his features, there wasn't a thing girlish bout him standing there. He looked at the pill bottles, which he wasn't expecting to be laid out like some offering in orange, and then he looked at Damian's face. His fiddle, which he held idle with bow in one hand, was set down careful to prop 'gainst the wall, and Misha walked on over to the bed and didn't stop 'til his kneecaps met mattress. The music registered, and the incense clung to his sweaty cheeks. He didn't say nothing, waiting to see what Damian would open with.