in my heart i can fly.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe chooses not to accompany Henry to his workplace, though she probably will at some time or another--she is genuinely curious about it, but Huan requires soothing, so she takes the time to settle him in once she's alone at the house.

Comments

[oleanderknife]

She is quiet for a long time, recognizing how difficult this is for him--and she wants to talk about that, too, because she feels like they have done too much for her, lately, all this stuff about how she feels and her past when he's been just as traumatized as she has, but she always gets like this whenever she feels too much focus is on her. Possibly this is kind of an issue in and of itself, but the matter at hand is another one, so she, too, focuses on that. Hasibe reaches out to tilt his chin up so he can meet her eyes, unwilling to let him look away from her for too long

[oleanderknife]

"Never," she says, answering that note of seriousness with fervor in kind, and then transitioning neatly back to teasing as she twists playfully (and provocatively) in his lap: "Just for that, though, I'm going to start doing all the housework in a little flippy skirt and nothing else and tell you you can't even touch me the whole time."

Notably the constraints of their relationship mean that although she might say 'you better stay over there' that doesn't necessarily mean he has to or she even expects him to; their words for that are different, and that's acceptable, too, when everything is the slightest bit twisted with them, but unashamedly so. They make it work for them, and moments like now are examples of why.

Furthermore it has occurred to her their roles in the household are pretty gendered, but they are aware of that and okay with it, and because it is their choice and personal preference, that makes her comfortable.

[beingtwofold]

Henry apparently intends to maintain an elaborate pretense of this meaning exactly how it sounds, however, at least for the moment. He has been taking 'puppy eyes' lessons from ....the actual puppy in the house, however, and it can pretty much be surmised Huan is awesome at those, so it's kind of a miracle he's not romping joyously through the entire house right now despite Henry's intention to put him to bed so he and Hasi can have Serious Adult Conversation.

Which has thoroughly devolved by this point anyway, as is demonstrated in perfect clarity by ....puppy eyes. Given a whole lot of what comprises Henry at this point that's probably a little like having a wolf snuggle up, but Hasi does just fine with that anyway, so: "Are you just going to tell me that, or are you going to actually mean it

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe actually enjoys his wolfish ways, judging by her playful, gamine little giggle at that first question, tossing her hair over her shoulder, concurrently to which the strap of her camisole slides down: "I think more of the former, but I don't know, Henry. I might be exhausted and just take a nap--"

Unlikely, also: stop that, Hasibe, you liar. "--or, more probably, I'll go and turn myself over to you and let you decide what I'm going to do next. Or have done to me. Do you have any recommendations?"

She tilts her head to the side and leans in to graze the side of his throat with her lips, gentle soft and sweet for the span of about five seconds, and then abruptly there is the sharp sting of Hasi's teeth. When she straightens, her expression is elegantly smug, brows arched in an expectant challenge.

"If you can think of anything."

Because that wasn't clearly geared toward disrupting thought, or anything.

[beingtwofold]

Given the countless number of times Henry has been bitten by this woman one presumes he ought to be able to handle it with some aplomb at this point, but apparently the more some things change, the more they stay the same. And maybe he's just playing to that smugness because it amuses both of them, but ...mostly not, mostly the glazed look she gets when he opens his eyes is genuine.

Still, for this kind of behavior he is obligated to troll her in some way, and as such once he returns to coherency he develops an expression of absurd guilelessness, which is great, because innocence wears hilariously on a wolf. "I have absolutely no ideas. In fact," gearing up for some ridiculousness now, "my brain is utterly devoid of rational thought, and soon I won't be able to remember my own name, and you'll have to pick out my clothes and come with me to work and type things for me and basically see to my every need, but I bet you won't complain about at least one of those."

Hint: it's 'picking out his clothes.'

[oleanderknife]

She gives him a look for his trouble there, though her shoulders shake with laughter suppressed; Hasibe tips her chin back as though she has been astonished by this terrible, tragic news. She nods along, sympathetic, and says, decisively, "You poor thing. In that case, it really wouldn't be fair for me to go to bed with you or even sit on your lap like this; inappropriate when you wouldn't even remember your own name!"

So she starts to slide backward in his lap, as though making an effort (a very slow effort, evidently) to abandon it.

Let's see how far she gets.

[beingtwofold]

It takes significant effort to hold onto her when they're both laughing now, his as much induced by hers as by his own questionable cleverness, but he manages, a feat which would have been highly improbable before he found himself possessed of physical strength that sometimes baffles and even frightens him, but--now he's not thinking about that. So if she sometimes wishes he'd let himself go a little more, well: mission accomplished there.

"No, you have to help me. Clearly you're the only one who can supply me with these vital details."

....go on, Hasi, carte blanche to make up any insane thing you want will probably never be given again.

[oleanderknife]

"Oh, reeeally." Fact: Hasibe loves any excuse to make up a story, although in this case it's less making one up and more a matter of reciting one she has heard already and warping it to be less hideously depressing, but she rocks forward on his hips, wrapping both arms around Henry. As though securing herself to him, in case he decides she is simply too ridiculous to permit, which is approximately the least likely thing in the universe, but she just likes attaching herself to him, nails sliding light over the side of his neck.

"In a fit of--let's say rebellion, I don't know, we can run away and, um, join the circus." Yes. "I'll spin fire and walk the tight rope, and you can catch me if I fall, and be the master--ringmaster, excuse me

[beingtwofold]

Henry is utterly straightfaced, completely deadpan serious; he could be considering his tax returns or when to schedule a root canal. This is a finely honed art he will have you know, and it is an intrinsic part of why they work so well together--he is deeply, deeply grounded (even now) and she is capable of these brilliant flights of fancy, and balance in anything increases its chances of stability.

"I think," he returns, eventually, only a falling flash of light in his eyes betraying how he is obviously kidding, for ...all that his words make it crystal clear, "it might be more trouble than it's worth to get Huan a work visa."

Dammit, Henry, get your real world out of Hasi's charming fantasy. "But I'll get you a tent and an audience if you really want them."

That's better.

[oleanderknife]

She shakes her head, after a moment of silent contemplation (which is very serious, damn it), smiling and biting her lip at the same time, her eyes star-bright, too. Their earlier months of turmoil seem to fade away at moments like these, and all that matters is she and Henry are together and safe, and although she is never really anything like sane to live with, neither is she such a disaster it is unbearable, either, not anymore.

One day she'll tell him about that some more, but not tonight. They've done some pretty heavy discussion already, and although she is open to more, she probably won't bring it up herself. No reason to wring themselves out emotionally when they have time to do things more delicately.

"No tent," she decides, "and no audience. Just you."