“𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄?” 𝐇𝐄 truly can’t believe what mal is saying, though maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. still, when looking at him, the blood on his lip and wild energy untamed in his eyes, nikolai lets the shock show. the tracker has spent days slipping into a state that nobody enjoyed watching; having alina at the little palace, becoming the general of the second army, it wasn’t easy for mal but it was necessary for ravka. (nikolai wishes he didn’t have to focus on the logic of everything all the time). his new life, one where he isn’t sailing and is instead making a play for the throne with the sun queen on his arm: that’s what the other man is referring to. he almost wants to scoff — he already misses the spray of salt water, the wind through his hair. but he’s not allowed to admit that, not now that HIS FACE IS HIS OWN. the prince grits his teeth, keeping his gaze level. “you can’t possibly be that pig headed to think i don’t want you here.” the words slip out before he can stop them; he doesn’t reveal anyone’s importance to him. hell, he doesn’t admit much of anything. but he won’t stop now, stepping closer and closer to mal, until they’re practically chest to chest, DANGEROUSLY CLOSE. “i know i lied to you about who i was.” saints, how he wished he hadn’t now. “but i didn’t think i’d have to say it directly to get it through that thick skull of yours that i actually liked having you around, and that wearing a different face doesn’t change that fact.” though a slight easy smile rests on his lips, his words couldn’t be more serious. the two were on their way to being friends. / BUT NIKOLAI HAD LIED. he lets out a breath, shaking his head. “of course, if you’d like to continue to consider me a villain in your love story of the ages, be my guest.” the sarcastic tone is easy, easier than the real feelings that threatened to come if he continued to look mal in the eye. (the feelings that were only mirrored when he looked at alina).
