an unwell feeling, despite a rough cough arthur muffles into the crook of his elbow, his condition is not the cause. picking up the movement in the left of his peripheral vision, arthur's hand reaches and grasps hold of the hunter's thick forearm. ' don't go. ' he murmurs, gaze barely lifting from the blank page of his journal. there was not much charles could do to help, tea was nice but even that would not stop his cough. ' stay a lil' longer. ' only then do softened eyes smile | ohrthur
–- “ ... I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable, ”
The words were hesitant, soaked in concern, just like the man who said them. Tense muscles instantly relaxed, foregoing his original decisions to get up and get Arthur another cup of tea. He really did want the gunslinger to rest, to at least have one hour without having the need to cough his lungs out. But clearly, Charles had assumed wrong on just WHAT Arthur needed to relax.
That smile. That damned soft smile. It was unfair really how it just turned him to putty.
–- “ ... But if that requires me to stay, then I’m not going anywhere. ”
The hunter’s own voice was soft and low now. The ghost of a smile spread across his lips, where despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help mirroring Arthur’s own small bout of peaceful innocence. Silently he sat back down, gently grasping the fingers that originally had curled around his forearm. Completely careless now to personal space, shoulders deliberately pressed against one another as the hunter found his place once more alongside the blonde. Perhaps a spot of MISCHIEF could even be seen in dark hues as Arthur’s hand was flipped over to expose his palm. Charles didn’t hesitate then to have his digits begin feathering up and down the exposed skin of Arthur’s arm, tracing patterns into his hand as he hoped to carry on the small semblance of tranquility that settled between them.
