For every two or three of Matt's strides, Dresden has to take one. He lopes ( lopes! like a trotting wolf ) after the other, following the warm globe of light and the bright swathes of colors all over Matt's skin and the scent of people-on-people sticking to every inch of him— ah, whoa there. Calm down, take it even-keel, Captain. Wearing a Fae Mantle is like doing drugs, sometimes. Humans have more brilliance than he knew them to have, every one of them pretty and tempting and easier than ever to feel affection towards. It's not like he's gone and lost his paranoia, only found the spaces where the seams that hold it to his defensiveness had begun to fray.
"I figure we gotta' start somewhere," he laughs, rubbing the back of his wrist below his nose sheepishly. "If you're a jack of all trades like me, that's even better. I just like knowing where I can fit in with you, and maybe we can get an idea of what we can do together." Magic, he means. Definitely magic!
Once he's in Matt's room, though, he gets nosy. Old habits die hard, and he'd always loved being a detective — one that was more than happy to take a proper gander at all the occult things in the witch's room. Maybe a ritualist-type, he's thinking. And that's good, that might mean that Matt's got a great head on his shoulders. Someone he can bounce ideas off of and get ideas back from, and Hells, it's been ages since he's been able to just sit and talk about his favorite thing.
He barks a laugh when he spots the trophy, holding it up like he's just won an Oscar as he hovers in the doorway Matt vanished into — the bathroom just beyond. "I'm jealous. Nobody ever gave me a trophy for being a nuisance," it has to be because of Matt's smile. :) Also he's objectively cuter than Harry. He sets it aside with a dull 'thunk' of metal, and leans into the doorway — having to lean his head to one side just to fit under the topmost frame. "You want me to wait out here while you wash up?"
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"I figure we gotta' start somewhere," he laughs, rubbing the back of his wrist below his nose sheepishly. "If you're a jack of all trades like me, that's even better. I just like knowing where I can fit in with you, and maybe we can get an idea of what we can do together." Magic, he means. Definitely magic!
Once he's in Matt's room, though, he gets nosy. Old habits die hard, and he'd always loved being a detective — one that was more than happy to take a proper gander at all the occult things in the witch's room. Maybe a ritualist-type, he's thinking. And that's good, that might mean that Matt's got a great head on his shoulders. Someone he can bounce ideas off of and get ideas back from, and Hells, it's been ages since he's been able to just sit and talk about his favorite thing.
He barks a laugh when he spots the trophy, holding it up like he's just won an Oscar as he hovers in the doorway Matt vanished into — the bathroom just beyond. "I'm jealous. Nobody ever gave me a trophy for being a nuisance," it has to be because of Matt's smile. :) Also he's objectively cuter than Harry. He sets it aside with a dull 'thunk' of metal, and leans into the doorway — having to lean his head to one side just to fit under the topmost frame. "You want me to wait out here while you wash up?"