[ he grins at that despite the tiny spear of trepidation that sinks squarely into his chest. he thinks — not for the first time — that alina sees things all too well. she has an uncanny gift to cut straight to the heart of the matter, perhaps because there's so much of herself that she's hidden away just as he has. she knows too many of his tricks.

it's a comfort, in a way. but it also leaves him slightly off balance, because it makes it that much harder to control the situation. it makes his charm somewhat ineffective, at the very least, and he's come to rely on it quite a lot these days. ]

Perhaps that will change with you in my bed. [ but he notices the same things in her, the quiet weariness she carries, the way she seems worn down when she thinks he's not looking. a certain darkness haunts her gaze, as if she spends her time seeing ghosts. ] Perhaps it will benefit us both.

[ a fervent wish and perhaps a foolish hope, but a theory he would nonetheless like to test. he runs one hand through his rumpled hair before he returns to the bed, reaching over to grasp both of her hands and pull her to the edge. he plants a warm kiss to her forehead, drawing his fingers gently through her long hair. ]

Then we shall. Do this again. [ he flashes a grin, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger and letting it fall as he brushes her chin. ] Whenever you want, Alina.

[ then he turns to the tray of forgotten food, scooping out a glop of jam for his toast. he takes a comically large bite, moaning out a noise of appreciation as he moves to his closet, picking out a teal coat emblazoned with the double eagle crest. he brings it over, brushing the crumbs from his hand before he drops it over her shoulders. ]

You'll have an audience. Might as well make a statement.