[For the subtlest of half-seconds, Therion's body follows Spike's, leaning after the warmth of his hand as though after a middling magnetic charge. He right himself without calling attention to it, turns the movement into straightening up and smoothing his hair back down. Still in the playful spirit of the moment, he drawls:]
Right. Sure showed me.
[With his arms still crossed defensively, it's hard--not impossible, but hard--to make out how his lower, farther hand slips into a trick seam in his hoodie. There's a pocket there just large enough to hide a keyring or a wallet, if Spike hasn't been careful.
(Or maybe Therion hasn't lifted anything off Spike and just wants to tease him if he checks.)]
no subject
Right. Sure showed me.
[With his arms still crossed defensively, it's hard--not impossible, but hard--to make out how his lower, farther hand slips into a trick seam in his hoodie. There's a pocket there just large enough to hide a keyring or a wallet, if Spike hasn't been careful.
(Or maybe Therion hasn't lifted anything off Spike and just wants to tease him if he checks.)]