Re: Room 12: Janus A/Steve M
Wrong? No. [The young soldier managed to looked disconcerted with what little flesh was stretched over the bones of his face, an expression that suited him so well that he probably wore it a great deal.] Nobody's done anything wrong. I wasn't... uncomfortable. Just jealous. [He reflected, eyes unfocused as he looked briefly inward to go over his memories and see if he felt any of that, anything beyond those short spurts of jealousy that had meant, to him, that he wasn't providing enough to keep a man occupied. It was an unworthy emotion and not one he felt to be Atticus' fault. Spindly fingers with weak, nearly transparent nails ran down the seams of ribbon that made up the shawl-collar of the robe as he went through all this in his head. The pink lace underneath was still there too, though now the garment hung absolutely loose on a far too narrow ribcage. The demon wrapped himself up in the robe without noticing he was doing it, as all the clothes were too loose, but still a choice away from the hospital blue transfer uniform he usually wore on this body.
Janus focused again on Steve, which he had not done yet. His pupils did a quick, abbreviated flex and unintentional wander across the white shirt, and he rapidly looked away in a manner too natural to be anything but learned. He had stayed in the robe though, and the lace, and the jean shorts. The knobs of his knees were incredibly pronounced.
The surprise, therefore, was visible like a blow when Steve touched him. Steve had touched him a couple times, and seemed to be a physically affectionate person. It wasn't that soldiers never touched each other, but in Janus' time such contact with others had been as aggressively masculine as possible to stave off fear and solidify camaraderie without the hint of anything more. This was different. Janus was only able to replicate such confidence in affection when he didn't look at all like himself, and envied the ease Steve had with himself. Steve didn't care about the robe or the sunglasses, or anything Janus said about Atticus. The young man gave him a somewhat pathetically grateful smile.] Yes. [He put two hands in front of his eyes, fingertips just brushing lashes.] It just drives in through where they were. [He dropped his hands again, as if to dismiss the pain associated with the nightmare. The sunglasses he left in his almost non-existent lap.]
Not worried about you with him? [It was an unaggressive question.] Why do you say that? It's not serious? [Janus' expression of doubt was sincere. It would be one thing if Steve and Atticus didn't like each other, but he knew that they did, a great deal. More than pals. Close friends.]