Re: log: dylan & max
With the realization that he might have taken something away from her with his refusal of sharing, Dylan went quiet. Despite not being a man of many words during this reunion, there was still a difference between his resting quiet and his contemplative quiet. Walls were firmly in place, and despite his new vows of openbookness, Dylan had never been the easiest person to read. The surface tension was mighty in this one, and bold elements jumped out(the nerd factor, the humor), but whatever else Dyan consisted of, it stayed in the dark. He'd always preferred it that way, and even if he was wholly dedicated to a life of truth now, he'd spent too long covering himself with sand to really know where to begin. There was no manual for starting fresh, and maybe he wasn't ready for that kind of turn around anyway.
He studied her, the feel of her hand in his ran beneath the pad of his thumbprint, and she didn't pull away. She grinned, and he did too, like a reflection born of instinct and then realized to be true. His cheek dimpled. "This is good." Nothing was good if you looked at the big picture, so he'd keep it small. Miniature, elemental. Tiny details, like her hand in his.