Re: Log, Date: Misha B/Damian W
Though he experienced fidgeting that went against everything he had been taught about controlling his body, Damian, at present, was not feeling particularly weak. He had felt a spike of desire for morphine earlier, when he had felt he was failing to help Misha, but that had subsided as much as these things subsided, and, at present, he was steady and sturdy upon his sneakers upon the asphalt. He was steady and sturdy as Misha leaned against him, and his hands were cool and dry as they pressed into hair and against clavicle.
Misha pressed his forehead to Damian's, and Damian inhaled from their shared breath. He did not close his eyes. He listened. He was not moved by this act of violence done to this woman the way Misha was, but he, Damian, had been killing people since he could hold a blade. Knuckles gently ran against the diamond cut of his jaw. "I am sorry you had to see this. Do such people not deserve malakhim?" He did not know if desert played into it or not. "I am inclined," he said of spending time together. Damian nudged his nose to Misha's cheek to press the boy upright. "Take us somewhere quiet." He did not know anywhere that was good to go in the Capital, outside of their apartment, the few coffeeshops and bars they had gone to, and the university.
For encouragement, he then pressed a kiss to Misha's lips.