*As if he's been sitting there all along, Beej becomes visible at the bar.... He studies a sheet of paper intently, several unfurled maps draped over a knee.....That kazango yellow hat setting smushedly atop his cranium, liable to fall off with the next errant breeze.....* *He fumbles with his hat as a questing hand nearly knocks it off.... He jumps a bit when the barkeep greets him, requesting his common glass of white and returning his attention to the...handbill? Poster? Flyer? The piece of paper in his hand...*

~~The usual corner, the usual suspect, you know the drill. Except... Discarded are the black silks, replaced by a ratted out pair of black jeans and a T-shirt of some indiscriminate nature, the words 'I probably hate you too' faded and cracked in white paint across the scrawny chest they cover. Scars...oh so many scars, mar the pale elegance of the arms crossed so defensively over it. His hair is brushed back, not long, not short, just there and bright, vibrant green...the color of emeralds. Yellow eyes travel, searching perhaps, or arming himself with a knowledge of positions and weapons, while his mouth opens slightly, not a smile but a baring of his fangs. And indeed...the set he's got would make a shark jealous.~~

*The keep brings his wine and says something that doesn't register, but it brings his head up, a cursory sweep of the room....*

~~He spots the trader by the bar, noting that it's the same stool every night with a detached sort of interest... Gingerly putting weight on his right leg, he hobbles towards it.~~ Eh'ya Beej.

Hello, Neets.... *He looks him over, taking note of the chipped slogan, in fact, the complete lack of...elegance...the boy's outfit lends him. Brows rise, questioningly, hands plopping to his lap to keep maps from heading to the floor.* Ah...interesting change. How're you?

~~Lacking his usual cat-like qualities, what with the limp and all, he takes his seat, noting with a soft snicker that the barkeep has already brought a glass of the same wine he orders every night.~~ Dam'a mus' be gettin' pr'dictab'l...

*His jaw tightens, noting the limp.... He shuffles with the maps, putting them in order but remaining quiet.*

~~Something slightly wicked touches in his eyes, and instead of answering, he slips off the stool once more, leaning over...perilously close...grinning something awful.~~ M'good'nuff. ~~Still grinning, his eyes widening then half-closing, he kisses the trader on the cheek once before turning his back and sitting down again.~~

*He picks up his wineglass, dispensing with his usual lift-stare routine, draining it halfway with his first swallow.... This is -not- an auspicious beginning to the evening.* ... *His eyes close at the kiss, heart dropping to reside somewhere near his gastrocniemius... He takes a steadying breath, but it doesn't help.* Wh-who.... *Shakes his head, voice much more firm than he feels...which is damn near to doing something inappropriate...say, throwing things.* What happened this time? And don't tell me nothing, because I won't buy it.

'O? ~~In his daze, the question takes awhile to register, a few seconds before the semi-cheered look fades to a soft frown.~~ S'non'a yer' bizniss.

*He drains his glass, sets it on the bartop a little too firmly, and begins to bundle up his maps, stuffing them into pockets... The sheet of paper gets wadded up and crammed in a pocket, though it wasn't a letter.*

~~He looks vaguely alarmed as the trader seems to pack up..but only vaguely... As a matter of fact...he looks almost stoned, mellow to a fault...though it isn't drugs that have put him in this state.~~ Y'leavin' th'n?

I'm mak- *Sighs* You don't walk 'good'nuff'. You kissed me. You're plastered. You're here, talking to me... I think it's a little bit of my business... *Under his breath* Dammit, dammit, dammit.... *Quietly* No, I'm not leaving.... I was done with my maps. *Shrugs, pushing his glass towards the barkeep.*

A'wa'k jus' fin'. ~~Tone mild, though the frown is still there.~~ M'-not- drunk. M'in'tr'st'd inna r'play'a t'oth'r n'ght s'all. ~~He sips at the wine, finding the taste to his liking after all, listening to the trader mutter.~~ Jus' wunner'n... ~~He looks at the glass, following its movement across the bar.~~ Wassa matt'r Beej? D'I do summth'n wrong agin'?

*A pained, terribly confused look swirls across his face.* What? *His voice is as puzzled as his face, his poor little brain trying to comprehend.* You aren't? You are? *Rubs at his face, feeling somewhat better, deciding that honesty is the best policy.* I am terribly confused. *Ignoring his new glass, he looks at Neetles with a faintly surprised expression... His voice is that odd, half-apologetic, half-conciliatory type used when trying to explain away bad wording.* No, no.... I just.... You startled me. Quite a bit... That's all...

M'not drunk. ~~He repeats it firmly, staring openly at the man, pupils wide in the amber eyes.~~ N'a am...butcha r'gr't t'oth'r n'ght, doncha? ~~He sighs softly, scratching at his leg through a hole in the knee of his jeans.~~ Don' mean'ta c'nfus'ya Beej... m'sorry. ~~Smiling a bit, he looks down at his knees, lifting nothing but his eyes when he speaks.~~ S'wh't a'was tryin' fer... S'rp'sn' ya' I mean...

All right, so you aren't drunk....*Sighs again, re-smooshing his hat.* I don't regret it. I was just.... Concerned, I guess. You never kissed me first thing, before.... It's all right. Really.... It worked, Neets.... It worked... *Shakes his head again.*

Jus'...tho't mebbe th's time...a'cou'd 'ang 'round aft'r...fer' ya. ~~His smile brightens just a little, and he says in his lovely detached tenor...~~ Wan'd t'kiss ya' yest'rday...but a'coud'nt... Mekin up fer't mebbe?

*He takes a slower sip of his wine, having calmed down.... He idly considers that a replay of the other night might not be such a bad thing, but a tiny worm of doubt wriggles, pushing reasons not to give in at him... He pushes it away, firmly.*

S'good... ~~His fingers dance over the holes in his pants, movements a bit clumsy seeming.~~ Gotta keep'ya onn'yer toes...

You'd.... You're just full of surprises tonight. *Maybe....maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to agree, but...* You mean last night...? *A small smile, finally looking at Neets.* I sorta hoped you would. *Shrugs* Sorry... I shouldn't've just jumped to conclusions.

~~His eyes trace the angles of the nomads golden-skinned face, noting the stubble has grown fairly thick again, not caring...though a tiny voice of reason? doubt? natters on at him about at least -trying- to keep lust out of the conversation. Ignoring it totally, his smile flickers brighter.~~ M'alus full'a s'przes... Jus' 'ide't well. ~~He nods, hair flopping in his eyes, having reached the length once again where -nothing- will keep it from looking tousled.~~ Wan'd to... ~~Snickering, blushing just a little, he sips his wine, nearly flat words echoing out of his cup.~~ Why'd ya't'ink a'was sqirmin' 'round s'much?

*He runs a hand over his stubbly chin, the rest of the tavern fading out of his conciousness, some corner of his brain boxing up the doubting little voices and kicking them into a closet as he just watches Neets.*

~~He sits there calmly enough, his left leg dangling back and forth, his right settled as comfortably as he can get it on a rung of the stool.~~

*Biting his lip, thinking a smirk is not-quite-right for the situation... he settles for a supressed grin.* I wondered.... You seemed kinda, uncomfortable, or something, so I didn't ask. *He reaches out, slowly, intending to flip that hair from his eyes...* You do hide 'em well.

~~A faint pinkish glow blooming on his fair cheeks, he giggles a bit.~~ Well 'ell Beej...yer'a guy...a'mean... ~~Thinking that statement fell something short of its intended mark, he looks up, a sudden blink the only move as the traders hand brushes at his hair.~~ M'good't it. M'a fair li'r...

*He shifts, getting comfortable, letting his gaze drift to the sparkle of light in his wine, then back to the mossy-locked, hebetic male nearby.*

~~Lips parting quite without meaning to, his observance takes on a softer air, recalling how the roughness of stubble felt against his fingers. And before his distanced mind can complain or agree, he has reached out to stroke the same skin.~~

I imagine you'd have to be.... *Faintly pleased that he succeeded in moving that hair.* I think I know what you mean. *A faint tint of red moves across his own face, his tan making it less obvious.* Had a little trouble keeping my mind on the task. *Looking towards Neets' feet, suddenly, an odd shyness softly wrapping him up.* *His eyebrows rise as those fingers graze his jaw, tipping his face a bit into the young man's hand...*

~~Voice yeilding to a tender warmth, he sighs ever so quietly and watches the trader.~~ A'-know- y'know whatta mean. ~~He blinks, frowning for a second before it fades.~~ Knew'ya w're watchin'... ~~Looking anxious, he mutters something about doing things the wrong way, his agile fingers tracing a jaw bone...up to the line of dark, thick hair...lightly over one of those raised brows.~~ Wanna'git in... A'need... ~~Softly, not ashamed, but hovering on the edge of sadness for some reason.~~ Got'ta th'nk'n 'bout touch'n...earli'r... ~~Shaking his head, he sighs.~~ Nev'rmin'...m'not talk'n well.

Sorry if it bothered you.... I tried not to.... *His voice strange, caught between apology, pleading, suddenly not wanting memory to dispell the fog from the boy's mind, and something else, perhaps a tint of humor? It's hard to tell.* *He swallows, eyes falling shut as the warm fingers trace his brow.* You wanna go upstairs? *Speaking quietly, wondering what he means, hearing the sadness.* You were thinking about it earlier? It's all right... *Offering semi-flimsy, to his mind at least, words of comfort, not certain about reaching out to him again.*

~~He shrugs, muscles rippling oddly under scarred alabaster skin.~~ S'okay. Y'din' touch me 'tall...ya'kept yer' w'rd... ~~A slight note of...surprise? thankfulness? creeps in as he continues his absent fussing with the strands of dark hair.~~ ~~He nods slowly, shutting his eyes suddenly.~~ But...Beej... ~~Pensively, he draws his hand away, rubbing at his bare arms.~~ Don' wancha angry wit'me... 'Cause... ~~In a rush now, a whisper as he offers an explanation.~~ A'-like- ya'touchin' me...but a'can't...ya' know. Cept when'm drunk'r'hurtin'. N... ~~He trails off slowly, his right leg twitching once or twice.~~

*Without really thinking, he tips his head to the side and presses his cheek against the slender arm.* Yeah....tempted to break it, once, but.... *Shrugs, sitting up a bit straighter.* I knew I couldn't.

~~As his arm draws back, he nods, feeling the scratch of beard on skin.~~ Butcha din'...n'm gr'tful fer't. A'kin st'll trustcha...

I didn't mean to sound mad at you.... *Very faintly* I was scared. *Sighs, scrubbing at his face.* If you're hurting...? Gods, Neets, that's part of why I was shocked.... If you're hurt, I don't wanna make it worse. Drunk I can deal with. *Looking down at the floor, the little doubts and worries gloating at him.* Don't want to hurt you any more....

~~He blinks once or twice, haze fading for an instant or two.~~ Wish... ~~Realizing he can't even hear -himself- he raises his voice.~~ A'wish'd kno'n th't...'fore ah wen out'n... M'not 'urt s'much... s'jus' a few scr'tch's n'a tw'st'd ank'l. Y'ain't gonna mek't worse. Not wit' 'ow car'ful y'are... ~~Smiling softly at those words, he glances over.~~ Y'din 'urt me... Y'ain't nev'r 'urt me yet. ~~Sounding almost drowsy, he snickers.~~ Nex'time l'jus' git drunk th'n...

*He takes another slow sip of his white, frowning because it has grown warm... His ankles uncross, recrossing...*

~~He watches the nervous fidgeting in silence, pangs of longing and worry mingling as he recalls how warm he felt, how safe, lying upstairs in that bed with this man...~~

All right.... Just be sure you...*Bites his lip, firmly telling panic to take a hike.* Be sure to remember, next time... *Praying there won't -be- a next time, putting a soft smile on his lips...it doesn't look forced at all, and after a moment, it -is- genuine.* I'm not? *A glimmer of pleased desire flickers in his eyes, his hand creeping out towards Neetles'.* *He abandons his wine to the effecient hands of the barkeep, fishing some Grickles from a pocket to go towards the tab.*

~~He nods, looking down, his hand reaching towards the one so slowly moving towards it.~~ M'bein' car'ful Beej...s'nothin' t'worry 'bout. ~~Returning the smile, eyes losing a tinge of the frightened deer quality to them.~~ Y'ain't gonna 'urt me...

*He keeps shoving and wrassling with those stupid little voices, adhereing firmly to the rather comforting fact that Neets started it, again.*

~~Finally registering the conflict in the trader's eyes, he falters...not wanting to talk him into something he doesn't want...not willing to beg though...or is he? Muttering something, he slides off the padded stool, landing on his good leg and leaning very little weight on the other.~~

*He slips off his stool, the smile expanding a bit as he closes his fingers around the boy's. A brief tightening of the grasp and he leans down, free hand coming up to tilt those wide amber eyes ceilingwards...* I try not to.... *He dampens his lips, leaning a bit closer.* If you're absolutely certain....Only if you want this.... *The fingers under Neets' chin slip ever-so-softly back towards his ear.* *Finally succeeding in locking doubts away, assisted by the fright leaving Neetles' eyes; the knot in his stomach fading with an oh-so-pleasent lurch.*

~~He finally meets the grey eyes, and any doubts slip away into them, devoured by the pools of shimmering silver.~~ F'a din' wan't I wou'dn'a com'ere, n'kiss'd ya...n'a woudn' be thinkin' bout 'ow good't's gonna feel, bein' 'lon' with'ya ag'in... ~~Unable to rise on tiptoe, he reaches up and slips his fingers through thick hair again, pulling the mouth so near to his down as he wets his own lips. Careful, he lets the kiss linger for a moment or two, fingers splaying wildly over the trader's back.~~

*He lifts his mouth, gasping at the words from Neets... Voice a bit unsteady and flashing a crooked grin.* Oh, yeah? And you ain't walkin' on that ankle, either. *Muttering about not getting any rest, ice or elevation for it, the least he could do was stay off it.... He shakes his hand free of Neets', running his hands down to his hips. He bends his knees, drapes one of the boy's arms about his neck. Slipping an arm about his waist, edging a knee under his behind and tucking his other arm under the bend of his knees, straightening without much hint of effort. ... Dropping the occasional kiss on his face, pausing to share a deeper one, making his way slowly to, and up the steps.*

~~His eyes go dinner-plate size as he is lifted off his feet, and without meaning to he tightens his arm around his neck.~~ Ya'nit'wit! ~~Affection warms his soft words, and he does his very best to distract the man as he wanders up the stairs, discovering that he could get used to those few extra inches of height...and that being cradled against someone's chest isn't all that bad... Doing his part for the evening, he kicks out with his good leg, knocking the door shut behind them.~~ P't me down, dammit! ~~A silly grin parades across his features, teeth bared.~~

Yes, yes, yes... And you're not standing on that ankle. *He intones this rather dryly, rolling his eyes a bit as he lowers Neets to the mattress, careful not to jar said ankle. He sheds his hat, vest, and boots before slipping in next to him, seeking out his mouth with wandering lips...*

~~Consciousness flirted with him unmercifully, teasing and tugging at him though he was certain he'd ordered it to leave him be. Something wasn't quite right...wasn't quite the same as it always was... Ignoring the faint warning protests, he groaned a little, shifting closer to the warm bulk beside him. There was conciousness again, teasing him, as he realized his leg was slipped over someone else's, curled comfortably, the bottom of his foot rubbing against a muscled calf... Those were arms around him, weren't they? Loosely draped over his side, and another, fingers resting in his hair. That would make the solid-seeming something under his cheek a chest, wouldn't it? Gods...he knew where he was now...locked in a sweaty tangle of limbs with... Yes, after cracking open one amber eye and peeking up to find a bright yellow hat on the bedpost...that would mean a certain S'Harran trader had gotten lucky again last night...or he had...or something like that...~~

*Wide citrine eyes...a gentle nip...Dark peridot hair....the flavour of a certain mouth....Coal-hued silk....the lyrical line of shoulder to hip to leg....Pale flesh marred by paler scars...dangerous teeth wielded with the utmost care...Charcoal sky paling into flat gray....time well taken... Beej shifts, the jumbled memories causing sleepy murmurs...His eyes flutter open, once, twice, then stay shut, his mind aware, but he's not -quite- ready to let the world into his sphere of semi-conciousness... A faint smile curves his lips as he settles more deeply under the covers and the half-sleep he's in, a snatch of a tune purring up from his throat... It's the same snippet of song that he hummed, off and on, _all_ -blasted- -DAY-, the day before yesterday, at the post office and the library... Too comfortable with the way the blankets and a particular warm body are arranged to be moved by anything short of being pushed out or sudden biological demands, he lies there, trying not to disturb the pleasant air of lethargy...*

~~He gives another soft groan, tensing a bit, trying not to bolt...~~ Beej...? ~~Whispered, the name sounds like a plea, perhaps asking for confirmation that there aren't going to be regrets.~~

*The humming dribbles off with a soft sigh, a ghost of a frown passing over his face as he drags a cold foot back under the blankets, which moves his knee along... Oh. Last night, the other night, mixed to the point of no matter... He notes that there aren't any naggy little voices picking at him, this time.* Hum...? *He wakes up a little more, fog slipping away.* Wha'? *Struggling to get his eyes to open -and- focus...*

~~There's that smell again...the orange and cinnamon...and beneath it, the smell of clean sweat, the musky odors of a night spent enjoying themselves... He shivers just a little, last night's pain-induced half-trance worn away by a good rest. Reminding himself that these hands resting on him so lightly have never yet hurt him, he manages to stay where he is, not moving one way or the other, and feeling only a little of that hard cold lump in his stomach.~~ Dunno...a'dunno... ~~Voice cracking, he clears his throat.~~ Need't git'aw'y...er...up.

*Umindful of the possible consequences, he presses a little closer at the tremor, a very tuneless humming starting up again....the rumble is meant as comforting, as is the slight tightening of his arms.* ... *However, at Neets' words, he lets his grip slacken and he nods.* Awright..... I s'pose it'd be stup'd t'ask 'f yer awright...?

~~His eyes open fully, heart racing madly as he fights with himself to stay...not to run from this... He winds up with his hands flat on the trader's chest, caught between trying to push him back and wanting in some far corner of his mind to just lie there all day, secure and warm.~~ Beej...don'... Not stup'd...jus' don'know 'ow'ta answ'r ya. ~~He fumbles around for something to say, 'Last night was great', or 'I really enjoyed myself'...and manages to croak out ...~~ T'anks...

*He manages to blink up at Neets, a puzzled, faintly pained smile flitting across his sandpapery mug.* 'S not? 'Kay.... Welc'me.... *Leaving his arms where they are, loose.* How'syer ankle?

~~He smiles tenuously, running tongue over teeth.~~ Yer' talkin' like me... ~~He shrugs, the action bringing him into closer contact.~~ S'okay...don' 'urt much... ~~He looks away, wriggling away again, stopping before he leaves the embrace altogether, though.~~

I know.... I'm st'll half'sleep.... Takes me f'rever t'wake up. It d'sn't? Good... *Yawns, biting at his lip and reminding himself not to move as Neets wriggles away.*

~~He smiles again, slightly, spying his t-shirt tossed haphazardly over the footboard and reaching for it with his toes.~~ M'us'ally aw'ke r'ght'away. ~~He frowns, shying from the subject of his ankle entirely.~~

*Propping himself up on an elbow, more awake now, watching prehensile toes grope for Neets' shirt.* I thoughtchy'might.... *A soft smile, a faint chuckle.* Leas'y'aren't a mornin' person, tweetin' cheerily an' tryin' t' pry me outta bed.... *His brows furrow at the sight of the shirt, remembering that -that- was most of what seemed...wrong...about last night. Something else prickles at the back of his mind, but he brushes it aside.*

~~He sits up, dislodging the blankets, the arms that he can't decide if he wants around him or not... Pulling the faded shirt over his head, he reaches up and runs a hand through wildly disheveled emerald hair.~~ M'a'n'ght per'sn...y'know th't... ~~Tugging the sheet up a bit more, he peers around the room for his jeans, totally oblivious to the faint crease of the trader's brow.~~

*He briefly considers telling Neets that his jeans are on the floor at the foot of the bed....Then dismisses the idea, half-turning and fishing on the floor.* I kinda got that impression from you, Neets.... *He picks up the ratty pants, looking them over before passing them to the young man.* Here... Where're your silks? *Mildly curious, a tiny part of his mind glad that he's been released from testing his willpower.*

~~He takes the pants, pulling them halfway up before standing and doing up the fly.~~ Trad'd'm fer' summthin. ~~He leaves the bed altogether, leaning against the footboard and staring down at the man...the only time -that's- likely to happen, with his lack of height. His weight rests on his left foot, and his thin arms fold across his chest, obscuring the cracked white writing on the shirt.~~

*He does watch Neets get dressed, a not-so-unfamiliar panic clutching at him... he stamps on it, swallowing and sitting up a little more.* You did? *Drops his eyes from the shock of murky green hair, trailing along those scarred arms.* Don't s'pose you'd say what...?

~~Though fully dressed now, he makes no move to leave, just standing there watching.~~ No. I wou'dnt. ~~It's firm, with an edge of anxiousness, like a child who knows he'll get in trouble.~~

All right. *Shakes his head, rubbing sleepy eyes and finally attaining a mostly upright attitude.* Y'just.... Um.... *Offering a smallish smile.* I was used to the silk. *Gah! Would those terrible little 'Something's wrong here...' , 'You've forgotten something...' chants ever go away? They're making it awfully hard to think.* 'S my shirt over there?

~~He shrugs.~~ Need'd summat done'n't was't only t'ing a'ad t'trade wit. ~~He stoops, picks up a plain white t-shirt, smiling wryly when he notes a small tear or two.~~ 'Ere y'go...sorry 'bout'those...

*He takes the shirt, noting the tears and the wry smile, which he returns.* Hmm... Your teeth or just haste? *Gently teasing, since they're not that big. He slips it on, plucking at the sleeves.* You did? Oh... *Shrugs, trying not to let rampant curiosity show, though an unintended, questioning note quirks the end of the word.*

~~He snickers, raising an eyebrow.~~ Dunno...we wer' bein' awful quick fer' awh'le... ~~He snorts suddenly, knowing there was something wrong with that sentence.~~ M'not gonna tell'ya Beej...quit'cher 'intin' 'round.

*Shrugs, a bit uncomfortable with all those thoughts clamoring at him. He brushes at his chin, noting the rasp... Another wry smile, though it's more smile than wry.* You started it... I just kept up. *Bites his lip again, thinking that sounded odd...Oh well.* Something... *Shakes his head again* There's something not quite right, here... I mean, beyond the usual. Stop hinting? All right... *Beginning a purposefully not-so-inner conversation, he begins hunting for various articles of clothing.* So, his silks, which are probably the most valuable things he owns, are gone. Not drunk last night, but hurting... They didn't get -stolen- by anyone, they were -traded-....So.... *Pausing in mid-lacing of one boot, paling considerably as individual notes crescendo into a very sickening chord.... He looks up, face blank.* Dammit, Neets, just get drunk next time, all right? *His voice hoarsely miserable, realizing that he -had- (though inadvertantly) hurt the boy...*

~~Sighing with supressed worry, he looks away, hobbling towards the window.~~ Y'sed...in yer lett'r...y'sed y'din' wanna do nuthin wit'me when'a was drunk. I -wan'd- t'be wit'ya...th's's t'only way a'cou'd t'ink've. ~~He looks outside, making a face at the very rustic landscape as he all but whispers.~~ S'not'cher falt...y'din do nuthin' but be wit'me...n'I knew w'at'a was doin' w'en a trad'd...

Letter? *Plopping his hat on his head, he recalls.* But... *Sighs, falling backwards on the tangled covers.* It seems you're not lucid either way, so I should just quit worrying about it. *His voice drifts up, part of him happily willing to just...drop...off...He forces his eyes open.* This is the last time, Neets, I mean it.... Don't get hurt anymore, please...? I can't..... *He mumbles something to himself, sitting up again and folding his arms.*

But'a know wh't'm doin' b'for! ~~His tenor takes on a rather desperate note, hearing those words, feeling as if something he needs is being taken from him.~~ Las'time? Y'mean...nev'r ag'in? ~~Choking on some emotion he still can't name, his fingers tighten on the window ledge.~~ Y'can't -wh't-?

*Growls at himself, at those stupid words that just don't work right.* I just.... You -know- I don't like your...trade. Either meaning, at this point in time. I don't know how much longer I can keep keeping my word, 'cause right now... That's what I can't do, though, what I want to. And that probably makes absolutely no sense. *His voice still a mere glimmer of sound, he presses on, his arms wrapping around his chest.* Not the last time...for last night...just...I don't have the words, Neets, I just don't... *He dares a look at the figure in the window, wrapping arms more firmly about his ribcage, something making him feel sickish, anxiety? Stress? That panic? He wills the panic away, telling himself to just calm down.*

A'know...'ell Beej...-I- don' like'm trade. Las'night's...th't'n was a fair trade. Jus'a'litt'l bit a 'urt, fer a 'ole night'a -not- 'urtin 'tall... ~~Looking back, turning and watching, he sighs, daring to ask finally.~~ Whaddaya wanna'do Beej? I ain't gonna git angry'r'nuthin...just tell me. ~~Yellow eyes note the hugging, the pale shade the trader's face has turned, and somewhere deep in his chest, his heart manages to skip a beat or two, knowing -he's- causing it...~~

Was it? Your ankle still hurts, it'll hurt later, tomorrow- *He bites his words off because his voice is rising dangerously fast.* Just... *Much more calmly, letting his arms relax.* hold you....

T'me t'was fair. Mor'n fair...gotta 'ole n'ght've -you-...s'what I wan'd. ~~ He repeats the words, almost the same as before, trying to breathe...discovering it's harder to do than he remembered, when someone makes you an offer you desperately want to take, but can't...~~ I wan'ya to...but'a can't...

*He feels only slightly better, wishing he knew -why-.... Why any of it..... Glancing back to those topaz eyes and down to his boots...*

~~Silently, he stares at the trader, wanting to be able to just cross the room and take what he's being offered...a few minutes, maybe more, of comfort...~~

Yeah, me, whoopee... Another night of getting your head messed with. *Sighs, not meaning to sound hurtful but severely unhappy with...himself, with something unnameable, but not Neetles.* I know.... I know. We should think about other things, for once.... You hungry?

~~He winces, not understanding, his own emotions too raw to let him read the trader at this point.~~ A'din' mean't th't way Beej...jus' don' know wh't th's is...don' know what'm feelin' an'more... ~~He chokes a little, shaking his head because he doesn't trust his voice, taking a deep breath.~~ Nah...m'gonna go fer'a bit...m'jus' messin' t'ings up...

*A sad smile, making himself look at the boy.* Then neither of us know.... I'm sorry, I shouldn't've.... I'm just sorry for saying that. *Shakes his head* You're not messing things up... You're going? *Oh, intelligent question there.... Didn't he just -say- that?* Be -careful-, okay? I'll be around...

~~He frowns, finding the that he wishes he'd been asked to stay an odd one.~~ S'a'right Beej...w're both stup'd... L...see ya' lat'r... ~~A slightly frantic note, not sure of what he almost said...not sure of anything as he taps out a combination on the keys of his 'fader.~~

*He watches him, detatchedly, almost asking him to stay...* Yeah, maybe... Might go back to the paper.... Y'l... *Coughs* Bye... *This word tacked on glumly, hunching over and holding onto his elbows because....*

~~He nods shortly.~~ L'be back lat'r...mebbe l'see ya'... ~~Considering his answer, he speaks the instant before he fades from the room.~~ Ah dunno Beej...don' know nuthin' 'bout't... ~~And then his wristfader removes him safely from having to actually think about that terrifiying prospect.~~ ~~GONE IC~~

*The instant the 'fader blips Neets from his presence, he takes up his quiet litany of swearing at inanimate objects, drooping backwards into the rumpled bedclothes, staring at the ceiling... **GONEIC**

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