[There should be some quick response to that, a little self-dismissive quip or pithy pull quote from a movie Dorian's never seen. But Prior went and made the mistake of looking at him when he said it, and now there's no disguising an honest reaction that's too startled and - touched - to reach for words.
It's something he used to be. A stabilizing force. One cool, collected queen - until the sky fell in and his world started coming apart in too many awful, insane ways to keep track of. And he's hated it, feeling so un-anchored, so far at sea.
It's a long time since he hasn't suspected someone's care of being nothing more than displaced pity. But for a moment, he lets himself trust.
And his lip's trembling, that's no good.]
Really? [Oh, his voice, too. Well. Well - the shift is visible as he takes in a breath and draws up a new facade. When he speaks again his voice is stable - if channeling some monochrome screen siren, rather than himself.] Careful saying that, you could make a girl feel dull.
[Bold of him to try that around a man who knows the act all too well. Dorian knows, but he doesn't call him on it, instead settling his hand over his heart.]
The last thing that you are? I wouldn't dream of it. Perhaps in comparison to me, but... [He trails off, before he can carry on. There's some level of seriousness, some level of sincerity that he'd like to maintain before the moment passes.]
I only intend that you know this, Prior... You are a rock in the vast ocean that is the unknown. You are an oasis in a desert riddled with storms that threatens to bury us. You are a star, a little less showy than the, maybe, but one I wish on. Really. Nothing will change that.
All this sincerity is very unfair on someone spectacularly unused to earnest compliment. Flattery, yes, and but anything honest comes laced with sarcasm or a wry humor to make it easier to swallow. This - this is almost too much, really. Prior's very quiet for a moment, a lift of his eyebrows his first and, initially, only response.
Then a nod, curt.]
Well, I don't know who to be more furious with, you or me.
Mm, no, I think it's you. Talk about hiding things under a bushel, you just - I just -
[A hand is raised, one finger pointed in the air marking a deliberate halt. Nope. No, words won't do. If Dorian's curious about what it's like to be pinned down and kissed by someone who weighs approximately the same as a kitten, soaking wet, he's about to find out.
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It's something he used to be. A stabilizing force. One cool, collected queen - until the sky fell in and his world started coming apart in too many awful, insane ways to keep track of. And he's hated it, feeling so un-anchored, so far at sea.
It's a long time since he hasn't suspected someone's care of being nothing more than displaced pity. But for a moment, he lets himself trust.
And his lip's trembling, that's no good.]
Really? [Oh, his voice, too. Well. Well - the shift is visible as he takes in a breath and draws up a new facade. When he speaks again his voice is stable - if channeling some monochrome screen siren, rather than himself.] Careful saying that, you could make a girl feel dull.
no subject
The last thing that you are? I wouldn't dream of it. Perhaps in comparison to me, but... [He trails off, before he can carry on. There's some level of seriousness, some level of sincerity that he'd like to maintain before the moment passes.]
I only intend that you know this, Prior... You are a rock in the vast ocean that is the unknown. You are an oasis in a desert riddled with storms that threatens to bury us. You are a star, a little less showy than the, maybe, but one I wish on. Really. Nothing will change that.
no subject
All this sincerity is very unfair on someone spectacularly unused to earnest compliment. Flattery, yes, and but anything honest comes laced with sarcasm or a wry humor to make it easier to swallow. This - this is almost too much, really. Prior's very quiet for a moment, a lift of his eyebrows his first and, initially, only response.
Then a nod, curt.]
Well, I don't know who to be more furious with, you or me.
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Whatever you may be thinking, I already know the answer is not me. You've apparently been furious enough with me. I, innocent, who have done no wrong.
no subject
[A hand is raised, one finger pointed in the air marking a deliberate halt. Nope. No, words won't do. If Dorian's curious about what it's like to be pinned down and kissed by someone who weighs approximately the same as a kitten, soaking wet, he's about to find out.
For the second time tonight.]