“Does that… does it weird you out that I do that?” Lance lowers his hand from his forehead, placing it instead atop his chest.
He stays watching Keith, though, careful and attentive, like the faintest shift in Keith’s features will reveal some rejection or disgust or weirding out.
Shaking his head, Keith says, “no.”
Lance’s jaw seems to tighten up, just a little, then relax. “Does it scare you?”
“No,” Keith says, smiling in a way he hopes is reassuring, “I helped kill he-who-shall-not-be-named. You can’t scare me.”
Lance’s lips twitch up, “that was actually the other he-who-shall-not-be-named.”
“Who I then exposed.”
Lance smiles a little, but it only takes a moment before it fades away.
“Lance,” Keith begins, wanting to reach out across the space, “we all have…” Keith glances away, searching for the right word, “things. I have things, you have things. That’s just… that was just…”
“The cost,” Lance sighs a little.
Keith wavers a moment longer, and then, emboldened perhaps by the dark, perhaps by the forlorn way Lance says cost, like he’s thought about the word a million times, extends his arm out into the space between them.
It takes a second; then, Lance turns and reaches out across the distance, his fingers landing in Keith’s.
Romelle follows, but before she can get far, Lance asks, “since when are you involved in trade negotiations?”
“I’ll have you know,” Romelle turns, pointing hard at Lance, “I am an ambassador.”
Then, for good measure, she sticks her tongue out at Lance before scampering away after Coran.
“Grown ass woman!” Lance calls after her.
Romelle gives him the finger without turning around.
