Re: [Treatment Facility: Dami & Misha]
"Chess can't be played with more than two, so I reckon it won't work. We could always sing. Do you reckon we can sweet talk you and Leena into song?" He didn't reckon they could. "What's Senet and Mehen?" Misha, he hadn't never heard of them games 'fore, and he had no help with language that would allow him to suss the meanings out, so he moved onto the topic of Kentucky. "I reckon stopping on our way elsewhere ain't a bad idea. We could go to the beach. The sun and warmth and water would be good for you." Misha, he grew up on old wives' tales 'bout taking the waters, and he reckoned it would be good for Damian, who Misha knew had to be plenty weak, even sitting how he was. And, Misha, he would have kept on insisting 'bout that, but Damian was offering his pillow and petting blond, and Damian didn't pet often. Misha, he let himself just enjoy that petting, and he almost forgot what the question 'bout the card had been in the first place. Real reluctant, he pocketed it beside the black card. "You know the driver's going to reckon you picked up some dirty boytoy." He didn't look like he felt real bad 'bout that interpretation.
Damian, he didn't giggle, but he did laugh, and Misha was willing to take that and pocket it too. He watched as the boy sat himself back and away from hard dick that was pressed up 'gainst belly in pants that were too snug some. He tipped Damian's chin, and the boy huffed, and Misha wasn't expecting Damian to stand at all. It came unexpected, and it worried Misha 'nough that he took Damian's hand to steady the boy, not to allow himself to be helped up.
But, Damian, he was moving, and Misha just had 'nough time to snag the bag Damian was leaving behind. "Slow down," he said. "You're going to tire yourself out." But, and Misha was real certain of this, Damian wasn't listening any. Misha was left with no alternative but to follow Damian into the room. He looked 'round, real pleased to see how much nicer this place looked than where Damian had been last. The bag with the knitting was set on the dresser, and he reached for the pillow. "Give me that, and sit-" Course, Damian yanked the pillow back then, but he did sit, and Misha could at least be real grateful for that. He crossed his arms over his chest, and he looked at the boy on the bed. "You're such a damn menace. You're tired and unsteady, and I'm real sure you ain't meant to be hauling me 'cross this damn place." But, the door, it was closed, and Misha wasn't no saint. He moved forward, 'til his legs were 'gainst Damian's knees, and he looked on down at the boy with dark, dark gaze wanting. "We need to get us out of this room," he said, and it was warning plenty. "But I thank you kindly for putting your ass on that pillow 'fore giving it to me."