#coldreads

Deguchi and Onoda are quite sweet, I enjoyed reading about their developing relationships, and see how they overcame their own insecurities and judgements! All in all it was an enjoyable manga.

Not that it matters, but I am wondering if Onoda is bi or demi.

Currently listening to "The Soldier and the Spy" by Annabelle Greene and absolutely loving it!

I think Mr Collins (ha! P&P moment!) has done an amazing job with the voices, and I especially love his Captain Frakes!

Muscles tighten the very moment the other man’s voice reaches his ears, heart thudding against his chest - one, two - while a rock seemingly settles somewhere about his middle despite the agent’s best attempt to remain droll and unperturbed. Harry had sang Patrick Jane’s praises, had sworn up and down that their latest scavenger hunt based on the barest bit of intelligence would be made ten times easier by the addition of outside help ... even Ros had bought into the pitch, spending no less than half an hour regaling the grid with all the ways he could supposedly solve entire mysteries with just a single glance at the wall. 

Secrets laid bare, is how she had described it. Sounds like something to see, he had answered.

A thick weight crawls up the back of his throat, that acrid taste of fear that hasn’t coated his tongue since his return from Russia ..he can feel the way Lucas North had struggled against him, the way his throat had given way with little pops until his breaths were nothing more than a twitch that eventually stopped. 

Lucas keeps his gaze on the computer screen before him, one hand working the mouse with a carefully constructed veneer of calm, and when he finally turns stormy blues in their temporary addition’s direction, the words are nothing more than a droll observation. “Keep throwing out solutions like that and the Home Secretary is going to be quite curious as to how Harry managed to find you.” Weight shifts as he finally turns to face Patrick fully, leaning against the desk as eyes flicker over the other man’s expression as if the agent is doing his absolute best to gauge what the other’s thinking.

𝙰  𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙴𝚁  𝚂𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂  𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷  𝚁𝙴𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙲𝙰'𝚂  𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂,  her  vision  disfigured,  fragmented,  blood  pounding  in  both  ears.  he  has  pressed  every  button  on  the  proverbial  elevator  to  hell,  guiding  them  straight  there  in  one  fell  swoop,  or  rather,  slight  tinkering  of  a  𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎  apparatus  that's  one  hair  away  from  spoiling.

❝ please!  don't  touch  that. ❞  her  plea  is  desperate,  bordering  on  madness  in  wide  perfervid  hues  that  might  as  well  pierce  a  hole  into  his  skull  if  he  were  to  continue.  she  smooths  out  the  fabric  of  her  sweater,  finding  temporary  comfort  in  the  softness  of  cashmere,  each  thread  more  𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  than  the  last  against  lithe  fingers.

sighing out,  a tight  lipped  smile  forces  its  way  between  rouge  cheeks,  bouncing  at  the  ends  of  her  mouth  through  𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍  teeth.

                                                    ❝  how  may  i  help  you? ❞