[Not something with which Therion knows what to do, apparently. Uncertainty softens the corners of his eyes, the customary tautness of his shoulders, as he takes in this unexpected non-reaction. He puffs a breath through his nose, then, and deliberately sinks further into his seat.]
I try to learn my lessons the first time, thanks.
[Whatever he's taken--if he's truly taken anything--remains in that hidden pocket, his for the keeping. With his eyes closed again, he could be sulking the sulk of the defeated, but an echo of that laugh of his still lingers around the edges.
If this is what an inch of Spike's trust looks like, Therion's choosing neither to stick a knife in it nor pry it wider open. He's letting it be, unmolested--untouched by anything even as light as his gaze.]
2/2
I try to learn my lessons the first time, thanks.
[Whatever he's taken--if he's truly taken anything--remains in that hidden pocket, his for the keeping. With his eyes closed again, he could be sulking the sulk of the defeated, but an echo of that laugh of his still lingers around the edges.
If this is what an inch of Spike's trust looks like, Therion's choosing neither to stick a knife in it nor pry it wider open. He's letting it be, unmolested--untouched by anything even as light as his gaze.]
Hey. Eat your apple or I will.