Persie and A'son have a long chat.

[nikoth]

This happened sometime before the HRW Leadership flight. Persie and I only now got to hammering out the end. :)

I also bought this with my five-finger discount from Persie. :)



Secath is sprawled on the ledge, taking in the sun, and Persie is laying flat on the stone beside her. With her sleeves and pant legs bunched up, her feet bare and shirt pulled up to expose her stomach to the sunlight, her skin is blindingly pale. Which should at least make it hard for visiting dragons to accidentally land on her.

Except for Nikoth, he has to backwing once he realizes that blindingly white thing isn't a pillow but a person. After a little readjustment they make a landing on the greenrider's ledge. A'son dismounts, scrambling to the ground and looks sheepish. "Ah, sorry about that. Didn't mean to nearly land on your head."

With the dragon coming at her, Persie pushes herself up onto her elbows, to watch and pull away a little bit, as if those few inches would make a difference in how squished she'd be if Nikoth didn't change his trajectory. Secath is a bit more aware, rumbling her disapproval, but Persie just smiles. "Well, you didn't," she observes with a light laugh. "Hi."

"Hi." A'son says, lips turning up into a little smile. He drops down onto the ledge next to Persie, looking out at the bowl before them. "So what's going on?" It's so simple, he doesn't seem to have any reason for being there. He's just arrived, and taking up space.

"Sun." She chirps it and she reaches for his trousers, down below the knee, as he sits down. "Pull your pants up." Then he can enjoy it with her. "It's nice and sunny today." Persie lays back again, arms over her head. At least she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to press him for a reason for showing up.

"For how much longer?" He asks, regardless of how obvious the question should be to him. There's a curious expression for her pull at his pants and so he rolls them up to his knees. A'son lays down on the warm rock, locking his fingers behind his head.

"I don't know. Until it goes away." But Persie grins with satisfaction that he plays along and rolls up his pants. "You should probably take your shoes off too." She lifts her bare feet into the air for display, wiggles her toes. Her soles hit the stone again with a dull smack. Squinting over at him, she asks, "How are you?"

A'son pulls his boots and socks off. He lifts his foot up and wiggles his toes. His slightly smelly, marginally hairy man toes. "Feels good." He admits, turning his head to face her. "I'm doing okay, I think. I feel alright today. How about you?"

Smelly, hairy toes - she wrinkles her nose for the wiggling of them, waves for him to put his foot down. Then, "Same," Persie exhales. "And kind of drowzy, but I think that's the sun. Did you finish painting your weyr?"

A'son laughs and drops his foot to the ledge again. "Is there something wrong with them?" He asks, peering past his knees in their direction. He rolls onto his side, "Me too. Yeah, I finished it. It's sufficently blue and cool looking."

"You just have man feet. But you're a man. You're supposed to have man feet." Very simple. It's all very simply. "So did you get, you know, unpacked and stuff? Does it feel like home yet?" Since he's rolled on his side, Persie does too, her head propped up on her hand.

"I got one of those things where you put your clothes. A dresser? I put my clothes in it. I put up some shelves, I put books and little carvings on them. It's starting to feel like home. I haven't gotten a bed yet, I still have all the furs in the living area. I think I might keep it that way." A'son tells her, as if he's warming up to this idea a lot. "You don't like my man feet?" He asks in way that's almost coy, for a man with man feet.

Persie laughs. "Yes, that thing is called a dresser." Nevermind that she's the queen of forgetting the proper words for things. The carving catch her attention. "Do you still do that? Carve things? Make little animals? And you should really have a bed. I don't know how you can sleep on the floor all the time. Doesn't it hurt after a while?" She doesn't answer his question about man feet, she just slips one of her girl toes over to touch one lightly. Beep.

"The dresser has my clothes in it. I picked it out." Seemingly very proud of this. "Yes, of course I do. Going away didn't stop that, there's plenty of wood there too. Different types. I carved fake seashells." Quite manly. "I don't need a bed. I have lots and lots of blankets and furs now. So it's sort of like a nest, all soft and lumpy." He jumps a little at his feet being touched. Then lightly touches hers back.

"Did you have it made? The dresser? I bet you have plenty of marks for that sort of thing now." Persie's glance flicks down to their feet and while she lets his touch a toe to her, then her toes go trying to pinch him on the calf. Her grin turns a bit impish. "You're glad to be back, aren't you," she decides.

"No, it's actually really beat up looking. It's hardly got any paint left on it. I think I'm going to work on it, fix it up and make it nice again." Satisfaction to come crosses his face. He makes a noise, then laughs and tries to pull his leg away. With a free hand he takes a tickling sweep at her midsection. "Definitely glad to be back."

"I like those things. All of my stuff is sort of peely. But then you get the paint color and the wood color. And it looks like it's... been part of life. And you don't have to worry about leaving rings on it or dinging it up!" There's an exclaimation because that's when his fingers take a swipe at her middle and she has to squeak and roll over away from him. "Did you want a drink or something?" she asks when she comes to a stop, laying on her stomach, lifted on her elbows.

"Exactly. Who wants to be perfect or worry about making a mess all the time. Start with the mess and make it home." A'son laughs when she squeaks. He watches as she rolls away, grinning ear to ear. "No, I don't need anything to drink." He adjusts into a more comfortable side laying position on the ledge.

"I have water," Persie offers anyway. "And I think I have a bottle of something somewhere. But it's a mess in there." Truer words never spoken. Of course, she can't help but smile back at his enormous grin. "You look it. Glad to be back. Do miss Ista?"

"Oh, I'll pass on a bottle of something somewhere. I'm sort of staying away from the stuff. I don't need water either, but thank you." A'son twists to try and see into the weyr of messiness. "No, I don't think so. I try not to think about it, most of the time. I guess. I'm here now." He certainly looks fairly content for the moment. "Are you cleaning in there?"

"Not even all the sunshine and the nice weather? The beaches? The girls running around in their little clothes?" She pushes herself up, kneeling and brushing the bits of grime off her skin so she can situate her shirt again. "Not cleaning. Cleaning just makes more of a mess, really. I mean, I could be cleaning, but then I just pull everything out and... I did go through my socks, though." One small win for Persie.

"Sunshine and nice weather are overrated. They get boring after awhile, you don't appreciate it." A'son watches as she situates that shirt. "Going through your socks is important. Otherwise you'd be showing up everywhere with mismatched ones and probably getting a lot of comments. Not that it matters as long as they're clean... But still."

"That's what I said when I left Fort. Well, not that exactly," Persie explains. "I just didn't want to live someplace that was the sort of place you go on a holiday. I mean, then where to you go when you want to kick back and relax?" She looks over at him, considering something, and then she gets to her feet. "Come on." Into the weyr she goes.

"No where, apparently. You just lay about and be lazy." A'son comments dryly. He reluctantly gets up to his feet (apparently comfortable on the ground) and follows the blonde along into her weyr, looking around curiously as he goes inside.

The weyr is, as she described, a mess. It's largely clothes strewn all over the place, but the wide range of colors doesn't help a foreign eye feel any less overwhelmed, nor does the way the furniture has been arranged to separate the space into different sections. Everything is covered with stuff: knicknacks, dishes both dirty and clean, scraps of hides, more clothes. Stuff is everywhere, all over the table, all over the shelves, all over the mantle. At least the floor is largely clear for getting around. Mostly. "And what are you doing now that you're home?" she asks over her shoulder, guessing laying about and being lazy aren't too far off the mark. But she stops short, blinking. "I can't see anything." She turns back to look at him, trying to her eyes adjust to the light only he's got the bright ledge behind him, which doesn't help.

A'son reaches out and puts his hands on Persie's shoulders, spinning her around so that she's not facing that bright light anymore. Don't go into the light. Wooooaah. "Keeping busy. Fixing my weyr, getting comfortable. Feeling like a human being again. What have you been doing since I got back?"

Persie turns obediently. "Oh, there it is." Which must mean her sight. "Milani gave me a list. I told you about that, right? I'm supposed to be welcoming people. And keeping kids out of trouble. And otherwise... I don't know. I check in on the barracks. Make sure they're still clean and stuff." Her expression twists. "I'm not very useful. - What did I come in here for?" She's forgotten already.

A'son looks around some more, still taking in all the colors and sights that is Persie's weyr. "I think you wanted to get something to drink?" He leans towards the list, peeking. "Am I on that? Can you see better now?"

"Right. A drink. Yeah, I can see," Persie answers, heading over to the blue peeling cupboard for a clean glass and filling it with water. "You are on the list now. Now that they, like, know about you. I mean, she knows that I know you're here so I'm sure that... Well, no, I'm not sure about anything." She's about to take a sip, but stops abruptly. "Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

A'son looks a little confused and shakes his head. "Does anyone still need to greet me? I mean, I've been here a few weeks now." When she offers him a drink again, he grins. "No, thanks. I'm still not thirsty. What aren't you sure about now?"

"It's not like that. I mean, it's not anything official or... I mean, I don't do anything, you know? It's just a list of who's just arrived," Persie says quickly, trying to explain, though something about it has her pale eyebrows pulling in. Since he doesn't need a drink, she wander away from the blue cabinet and over toward the purple couch. Vibrantly, purple. "I'm not sure about... I don't know. It's none of my business anyway."

"If you don't do anything, why do you have a list? How often does it get updated?" A'son asks as he follows her back to the bright purple couch. He slumps into and leans his head on the back, peering curiously at her. "What's none of your business anyway?"

"I just say hi and talk to people and be friendly and cheerful. You know, just to make them feel welcome. And I just check in with Milani every few sevens and she gives me a list of the people who have just gotten here. So I know who to be on the look out for." Persie tries to explain it, taking a perch on the arm of the couch, her glass held in both hands. "I just meant... I don't do anything special." She pauses, looks a little warily at that curiosity on A'son's face. "I figure that Milani knows I'll say hi to you anyway, so it's not like you needed to be on the list. But... I don't know. Stuff between you and her, it's not my business."

"No, it's not. Her and I talked though. We have our business straightened out." A'son shrugs his shoulders. "So I don't think you need to worry about whether or not we say hello to each other anymore." The wariness on her face is caught by him and he looks concerned. "Is something wrong or...? You know, don't worry about. I'm thirsty?" He offers, trying to break away from what could potentially be something uncomfortable.

Persie's head sinks into her skinny shoulders just at touch, like a frightened turtle. His concern only seems to make her odd worry worsen, but she asks anyway, timidly. "You're okay?" And she also offers the glass of water toward him, just in case he's serious.

A'son eyes the glass of water held towards him. He pulls himself out of his sunken position and moves a little closer to her. She's on the arm, he's on the cushions. So he's a little lower than Persie, one hand goes to the glass and he pushes it gently back to her. "I'm fine. I think. I guess. Are you okay?"

"Okay," she answers, giving herself that little nod more than him. "I'm okay." The glass back in her lap. "I'm glad you came over." Persie steals a glance over at him, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "You were supposed to help me move this couch once. Do you remember that?" Before the smile can get any bigger, she catches it in her teeth, pulling it slightly wry.

A'son looks down at the couch, examining it. "I was? When was I supposed to move it?" He seems to be remembering, but it's not quite there yet. When he sees the small smile appearing, he smiles himself. Nervous, "Are you really glad that I came?"

"When you got caught at Crom," Persie answer with a breathy chuckle. "I sat here and worried." Not that she's worried now. She's smiling a bit more boldly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Of course I'm glad. Why wouldn't I be?"

The hand that pushed the glass back, moves forward and playfully bats at the hair she just tucked. "Crom. I can't believe I forgot that I was going to move this before I went." A'son bites his lip and then laughs, almost shyly. "I was trying to get to know." He admits, looking down at her glass when he says it.

"Yeah, I mean, the thing on your mind in all of that, it must have been helping me move my couch," Persie laughs more brightly. She also lets him play with her hair, making no move to block him or pull away. His sudden shyness, however, has her canting her head. "A'son?" she asks him curious but also growing confused. Her smile is still stuck, though, lips caught in a curve. "What's going on?"

"It should have been. What kind of man can I possibly be if I can't remember to move your couch? Did I ever apologize?" A'son asks with a grin. The confusion confuses him and he shakes his head a little, dropping his hand away. "Uh, nothing. Nothing at all." He quick grins again, though it's not the same as before.

"I guess I do." A'son says, smile creeping sideways. He laughs a little when she nudges his shoulder. "Tell you what? I'm just not good at this sort of thing. And by sort of thing, I mean any sort of human interaction outside of hello and good-bye."

"You seem fine to me," Persie says, her brows nipping inward as she shakes her head at him like he might just be a silly thing. "What do you mean? Or well, maybe," she laughs already, at herself. "Maybe I just don't notice because I'm not very good at it either."

A'son begins chewing on his lower lip again before he pulls himself up, using the back of the couch to brace himself. He leans in, moving into Persie's personal space. From all intents it would seem as if he's going to kiss her on the lips but then stops. Hesitates and kisses her on the cheek instead. "I'm sure you're perfectly fine at it. It's probably just me."

She may have let him fiddle with her hair without notice, but when he's coming at her like that, her eyes get wide. It probably doesn't do anything to help his hesitation. But while he's close, Persie reaches for his arm, taking a handful of shirt, and she stays very still for the peck to her cheek. Her smile becomes fragile and shy and then weakens. "Are you leaving?" Try as she might to hide it, there's disappointment her question.

A'son moves away a little, lip chewing continuing on. His eyes drop down to the hands on his arm and shirt, then they're coming back up to her again. Appearing fragile and more than a touch nervous, "Do you want me to go?" He's offering it up, putting it out there. He'll bolt out of she wants him to do.

She pulls on his shirt a little, like that negligible force might drop him back onto the couch. "No," Persie answers, shaking her head. "Not unless you want to." There's a question there, even if there isn't. "You got up. I thought you were... going."

He puts his hand on her chin, gently. A touch that's trying as hard as possible not to control her movements or direct her, just touch. Just feel as is fingers trace down her neck. A'son pulls them away a little, "No, I don't want to go." He shakes his head, "I didn't want to... I didn't want to make you feel like... I don't know. Bad."

Persie may lift her chin at the brush of his fingers, but when they start down her neck, she lifts her own hand to capture them. "I don't feel bad," she tells him quietly. But she has to shake her head immediately because that's not entirely true. "Or, I always feel bad. But you haven't done anything. I don't want you to feel bad." Considering nothing at all has happened that either of them should feel bad about, it might be time to call the mindhealers.

With the lift of her hand, he moves his away. A'son swallows and starts to retreat and shakes his head. "What does that mean? You feel bad but you always feel bad? Why?" The bronzerider doesn't look like he knows what to do. Bolt. Stay. Keep going, stop. The hand that was going backwards before moves forward to hers, that he briefly touches with the tips of his fingers.

"It means that I always feel bad. About everything. I feel bad now that you... feel bad. And I don't know why you feel bad or if I did something but you're..." Well look at him! Persie is not in anyway unaware of the frenzied indecision he's suddenly dealing with. In fact, the more she looks at him, the more tightly her eyebrows knit together, the more her mouth turns downward. His fingers might be all flighty and hesitant, but hers isn't and her hand wraps tight on his to make it still. "What's wrong?"

"You shouldn't feel bad that I feel bad. Because I don't feel bad." A'son takes his free hand and goes to her eyebrows, running a finger over them to smooth them out. Then to travel down to her mouth and run another one along them, tracing the outline that they make. "I'm afraid." He admits in one breath.

Persie blinks. She blinks big, wide, round eyes. They're startled and confused and concerned. "A'son," she says, her glance flicking all over his face for some explanation.

A'son doesn't have one right now. He leans in, he kisses her full on the lips. Not a brush like that night a few sevenday ago. Not friendly, but with purpose. He moves back to check her eyes, to see if that confusion and concern are still there. "That you wouldn't want me to."

As unflattering as it might be, Persie, well, she freezes a bit when that kiss lands on her mouth. Depending on how quickly he pulls back, he might not even notice that her lips just barely start to move in response. And when he does pull back? That confusion is even greater. "A'son..." Her free hand reaches for his chest, to push him back and hold onto him at the same time, her fingers closing around another fistful of shirt. Her breath is quick. "I..." Whatever she was going to say, she abandons it with a more pressing order. "Don't run away. If you run away, I'll feel bad."

Not even notice? The most paranoid man on the entire planet definitely notices when she doesn't kiss him in response, at least not fully. Hurt that's quickly schooled into a picture of nothing fleetingly shows on his face. Then that's replaced entirely by confusion. She's pushing him back, holding him in place. "I- I'm sorry. I'm not going to run away. I'm just going to walk away. And we can pretend that this never happened. I don't want you to feel bad. I'm sorry."

"No," Persie gets out quickly. "A'son, please. Don't just... it'll be weird and... And I want to say things." Pause. "I think." Her expression grows ever more troubled and her fingers tighten on his shirt. "Will you sit? Please? Sit and... and..." What can she think of? Not much. "Drink some water!" The glass gets pushed at him.

"Say things? You don't have to say a lot, a simple, you're not interested is fine. I get it. I'm a grown man." A'son insists, looking increasingly more nervous as her fingers tighten on his shirt. He stares down dumbfounded at her glass of water. He takes it and stares then at her.

"That's not what I want to... I'm not... I don't... I..." The phrases she's capable of getting out seem to get smaller and smaller and grows more and more frustrated with every failed start. She pushes him back when she gets up, but still holding that shirt, then turns to try to push him back onto the couch. "You're supposed to sit." There's even a flush in her cheeks.

A'son numbly allows himself to be pushed back down onto the couch. He sits and looks up in some sort of amazement at Persie. Of course while this is going down, he's trying to very carefully not spill a glass of water onto himself. "I'm sitting. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to make you..." He doesn't even know, he just looks confused now.

Persie exhales heavily through her nose as she finally lets his shirt go and can stand in front of him. She's looking at him very firmly now, her brows drawn, her mouth a troubled line. Of course, it probably has the same force as stern look from a little bird. But then the talking starts. "You can't just leave. You can't do something like that and then just leave. Because then I'll sit here and I'll think and I'll worry about you and if you're going to do something like that then you can't just walk out. You can't just do that and go." Somewhere in the middle, she's started pacing, just barely, staying right in front of him just in case he's still going to bolt.

"No offense, Persie. But a man is allowed to run away and try and regain his dignity in private. This isn't something I usually do and uh, your reaction was sort of a non-reaction. So I sort of would like to go and cry into my pillow and feel like an idiot. In private." A'son drinks from the glass, watching her pace back and forth but making no move to run just yet.

"No. If you're going to do that then you... you have to deal with me." She says it right over most of his retort and so it take an extra moment for his words to register. Then her pacing stops and Persie's looking at him. "Why did you do that?"

A'son shakes his head back and forth. "Why do you think I did that? I- I like you. I think you're pretty. You make me laugh. I wanted to kiss you. I just... that's what I do if I feel that way." He looks at her, seeing if the explanation is enough. As simple as it is.

Persie stares at him, confused still, again, always. And then she gives her head a shake and the pacing starts up again, changing direction with every phrase. "But... but what about Milani? And she's my friend. And people don't just... kiss me. And I... And you..." The words stop coming and so she gives up on them again.

"She's living her own life. She's with other people. I'm living my own life and we're not together anymore." A'son shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset. I wanted to kiss you. I like you. I was interested before I went to Crom and things got all screwy and when I came back before Ista. I just thought... I don't know. I guess I made a mistake." He breathes out a sigh and gets up, trying to hand the glass back to her. "We never have to talk about this again if you don't want to. I'm sorry."

Persie just blinks as all this information comes pouring out and when he gets up, she puts her hands to his chest again. "I'm not upset. I... don't know what I am. I just... I need you to stay still." Figuring at least that much out makes the hands on his chest a little gentler, less panicked. "Just, stay still."

"Okay." A'son says, taking his fingers and raking them through his hands. "I'll stay still." After a beat, "Now what?"

"Just let me think," Persie answers, still a bit breathless, her focus there between her hands. A few more beats pass and then her head falls forward against his chest. "I don't know what to say. But I don't think you should go. I think you should sit and stay a while and... and we'll talk about... I have no idea, but we'll talk about something. About food or parties or people. And then when you go things will be... okay. I don't want you to go home and think about this and me and be upset." Her arms slip around his middle to hug him gently.

He sighs and wraps his arms around her, squeezing. "I'm going to go home, Persie. I know that you want me to stay and talk about normal things until it feels normal. But I don't think it's going to work like that. I sort of... I need to go home. Okay. Don't feel bad." A'son gives her another squeeze before unwrapping his arms and then untangling Persie from himself and taking a retreating step. "Good night, Persie."

Her head drops down when he steps away, no chest to lean it on. Though Persie doesn't let go readily, there's no fight left when he peels her off of him. "You don't understand," she tells him instead of goodbye, sinking onto the couch with her arms wrapped around herself. Secath gives him a dirty look on his way out.

He stares at her, looking deflated. Hurt, confused. A lot of things. That step backwards turns into a step forwards and instead of leaving he ends up sitting on the couch. Sinking down next to her, A'son drops his head onto her shoulder. "I don't understand."

Persie lifts her head to blink at him, there on her shoulder. She turns just enough to rest her cheek against his hair and for a long while, she stays just like that, just quiet and close. "You don't know anything about me, A'son. I'm not... I hate when people leave. I never know if they'll come back."

"I'm going to come back. I wouldn't do that to you, just... try something and not come back." A'son shakes his head. "You don't know anything about me either." He sidles in closer and just stays that way, hands wrapped around his mid-section.

"It doesn't feel like that. Not when someone goes and then it's all empty and quiet and it's just me and Secath again." Persie settles in against him, getting comfortable. "Tell me what I should know about you."

A'son unwraps his hands and leans further into Persie, getting comfortable too. "I don't know." He admits, sounding exhausted. "What do you if you don't know yourself anymore? I think I used to be sure. At some point." A struggling pause. "I like Nikoth. I like doing things that take up a lot of time. I like to... swim? Going outside when it's warm is nice. I enjoy neutral, cool colors." His head rests on her shoulder again. "What should I know about you?"

"I don't know," Persie answers in return, just sitting there, rather cozy against him. "I don't think I've never not known myself. I mean, I wasn't always the way that I am but..." She shrugs her thin shoulders. "I like swimming. And going outside when it's nice," she adds in. The colors, well, her weyr speaks for her there. "Um... you should know that..." Though he can't see it, he can probably feel the way she makes a face through her own pause. "I can't... I can never figure things out. Everything is makes me sad, but it's all beautiful, too."

A'son slips his unwrapped arms around Persie and then leaves them there, entangled a bit. Comfortable. "What were you like before you got this way? What were you before?" He asks softly, face still pressed in. "You can't?" There seems to be a sort of relief there. "I can never figure out anything. It comes and then it just slips between my fingers." One hand is held up and the fingers spread before he closes them again. "Frustrating."

"I don't know. Simpler?" Persie guesses. "Less... fearful? Maybe I didn't... feel so much." His relief, and the arms around her, seems to calm her -- she certainly doesn't pull away. "It is," she tells him in agreement. "I wish I could do it better. There's just all this... everything in my head happens too quickly. I can't keep up."

"Maybe you were younger and didn't know what you were feeling." A'son suggests softly. With her calming, he begins to relax more. Pulling back and twisting a little, he arranges himself into a position that might be more comfortable for both of them. "Maybe it would be easier if we just stopped thinking so hard. For once? Have you tried that before?"

As long as those arms don't slip away, `Persie seems perfectly happy to let him adjust and get comfortable. She lets her head fall back against the couch, her blonde hair all the more vivid for that purple backdrop as she turns her head to smile at him. Chuckling fondly, "You're just trying to get me into bed, aren't you."

Something of a pause comes between her comment and his response. "Before." He admits, slowly, warily. But then A'son's reaching a hand out to play with a piece of her hair. Biting his lip, "Not now, now it's not just that." He drops the lock and goes back to just holding her. "I like you."

"Before we sat down you didn't like me?" Persie laughs, her eyes looking to the side to watch his fingers twiddle with her hair. Her teeth catch her lip, too, but there's a smile in there.

A little defensive, "I liked you before that, before tonight." Then her laughter comes and he laughs too. A'son's hand escapes again and he goes back to her hair, playing with again. Fiddling, perhaps nervously.

"Well, I like you too," Persie says, that innocent ease meaning like and not like-like. "You're always so nice to me. Or you try to be. But trying counts." Her smile spreads wide and sad, cheek pressed against the back of the couch as she faces him. "You stayed. That was nice."

A'son drops the lock of hair to playfully put his hand on the top of her head and muss it. "That's nice." A'son says and sighs, shaking his head. There's still a smile, though it's similar to her wide and sad one. "I'm glad that trying counts for something."

Persie makes a squeak, a hand trying to stop him and rescue her smooth hair from his fingers. "Hey, quit it," she laughs. Her playful scolding comes with the wrinkle of her nose. "That's not a very nice thing to do to someone you like." Her fingers comb through the blonde tresses, trying to even them out again.

A'son laughs and withdraws his hand. "Sometimes you do stuff like that to people you like. To bug them." He pulls away and sits up into a reclining position, watching her straighten out her hair with a smile.

"So sometimes -you- do that to people you like. To bug them," Persie corrects, her smile brighter, teasing in return. "I think you'd like it too much if I did it back. And then we'd have to think about the things we're not thinking about."

"Sometimes, I do. I like to bug people sometimes." A'son admits with that little smile, the one that grows when she starts to tease. "Yeah, I probably would. But to be honest, I probably would stop thinking completely if forced to think about the things we're not supposed to be thinking about. Just action."

Her teeth are finding her lip again. "You'd just have to think about it later. Only there would be more to think about. And it might be worse. The thinking." Persie's brows pull together as she glances downward. "And it might not be what you think anyway."

"What if I decide to not think about any of it later?" A'son suggests, lifting his eyebrow. The eyebrow drops and he just chews on his own lower lip, "To maybe just... enjoy something for once? Someone? Not complicate it, just feel it?"

Something he says catches her of guard, her lips falling slack and open as she blinks. There might even be a touch of color in her cheeks, though that could be the sun she was laying out in. Persie animates again, putting the smile back on, though now it's shy and self-conscious. "I complicate things. And I'd think. Right now... I'd think."

"Should I... stop trying?" A'son asks carefully, slowly. There's an openness to it, the possibility of hurt there. "I mean, not... stop being friends or stop coming to see you. I won't go away. Not that, but just. Anything that we won't think about?" It's jumbled, it doesn't make sense. Then added quietly. "I've never seen you complicate anything."

She doesn't seem to find it nonsensical at all, in fact Persie's grin brightens a little and she tips her head against the couch again while she looks at him. "I don't know. It's very flattering. It makes me feel... good." The blonde does look rather pleased with herself, but then she exhales, lets the smile fade. "But if it makes you feel bad then... then I can't feel good. So if you feel bad then you should. I think." Now she seems to be confusing herself, which has chuckling again. One thing she does know: "You've been away."

"Well," A'son begins with a roll of his eyes and a wry laugh. "I'm glad you think it's flattering. I on the other hand, think it's quite ego-shattering to be rejected continuously." He smiles as he shakes his head. "But I don't know if I could stop anyway, so I guess you might as well feel good." Then he's back to the hair, playing now that the awkward has somehow faded. "So?"

"Do you feel rejected?" she asks, her expression and voice almost dreamy. "Really?" like she can't believe it, not when they sit so comfortably like this. "You were away. Maybe you missed it. Maybe you should..." Persie stops there, just sort of staring blankly for a moment. When she continues her voice is quiet. "I probably only make things complicated for myself. So even if you were here, you probably wouldn't notice."

"Well, yeah. There's nothing quite like kissing someone and having them look sort of .... I don't know. Shocked? But not shocked in a pleasent way?" A'son purses his lips, dropping his head back against the couh. "I think it all comes back to the over thinking. That's what makes it complicated." At the last bit, he sighs and blows some air out of his mouth. "You're probably right. I'm a dense idiot. I likely wouldn't have noticed."

Persie lifts a hand to his cheek, her smile fond and impish as her fingers slip across his skin. "I think you should go, A'son," she says sweetly, though sorry. "I think you should before you convince me. Because it's already complicated."

A'son turns his cheek to try and kiss at her fingers before they get away. He doesn't say anything to her telling him to leave, he just smiles with a bit of defeat. Bit by bit he untangles their arms and limbs and gets to his feet. He kisses his own fingertips and then presses them to her mouth. "I won't make it more complicated, if you don't want me to." He gives a little wave, a silent good-bye before he takes the steps that will lead him out of her weyr and back to his Nikoth.

He does get that kiss on her fingertips before they fall away. And Persie was about to say something when the sudden touch of his hand on her lips silences her words. Then he's moving away and she gets up on her knees on the couch to watch over its back as he heads out. "I'm glad you came," she tells him, her smile wide enough to hide any regrets, a pretty picture for his departure.