[Oddly, Louis's pool attire doesn't really register as more than oh, those are very yellow to Koby, their relationship already slanting towards something even more unfamiliar than the less-platonic connections he's had here -- something solid, dependable, protective in the way he'd felt around Garp, to some extent. Granted, that relationship was complex in a completely different way, but Koby finds his urge to make Louis proud is the strongest one he feels when they're together. He'd know it was paternal, if he'd ever experienced that before, but -- well.
Whatever the complexities, he's soothed enough to straighten up minutely, lower his crossed arms enough to lean a little closer and examine the container of paint. Since he's filled out a bit more, the scars aren't as vivid and garish as they'd seemed when he was scrawny and underfed, but they're still very visible, running one beneath each pectoral, broad and shiny and jagged. Very jagged, actually, an extremely inexpert job, narrow in some places, wide and crooked in others, ridged and smooth and knotted scar tissue, like the wounds had healed unevenly over time. It's worse where Koby moves the most, closer to his arms, his abs, like he'd pushed himself, torn the stitches open -- the cause of the uneven healing, likely.
He's momentarily distracted by the paint, eyebrows arching at the odd glow beneath the cup of Louis' hand.] Oh, it -- does glow, doesn't it? Huh. [Sitting back up, arms back to their place crossed over his chest, like a reflex, though he's also already turning to offer the bowed ridge of his spine.] And it's safe to use? You're sure?
cw: mentions of past unsafe surgery how do i even warn for this, also blood
Whatever the complexities, he's soothed enough to straighten up minutely, lower his crossed arms enough to lean a little closer and examine the container of paint. Since he's filled out a bit more, the scars aren't as vivid and garish as they'd seemed when he was scrawny and underfed, but they're still very visible, running one beneath each pectoral, broad and shiny and jagged. Very jagged, actually, an extremely inexpert job, narrow in some places, wide and crooked in others, ridged and smooth and knotted scar tissue, like the wounds had healed unevenly over time. It's worse where Koby moves the most, closer to his arms, his abs, like he'd pushed himself, torn the stitches open -- the cause of the uneven healing, likely.
He's momentarily distracted by the paint, eyebrows arching at the odd glow beneath the cup of Louis' hand.] Oh, it -- does glow, doesn't it? Huh. [Sitting back up, arms back to their place crossed over his chest, like a reflex, though he's also already turning to offer the bowed ridge of his spine.] And it's safe to use? You're sure?