His Eyes Were Older Stil

   No one is safe.

All right, four people. The lord in weird clothing can stay.

    Strong sense of disliking towards you Southerners and your weirdness.

Wex lets out a silent snort at her words. She can go jump off cliffs all she’d like. He doesn’t care. (All right, he cares a little. She is, technically speaking, his best friend. Or whatever.) Wex has been here longer than she has, though, long enough to know that that water isn’t green because there’s an unholy amount of seaweed down there. It’s fucking green because toxins or something. It’s green because the CEOs around here would die if a little dirt got on their suits but won’t give one shit if the sea is polluted. He pinches her cheek with his fingers, just to rile her up, while holding onto the railing of the bridge with his unoccupied hand. 

Wex’s jaw drops. He looks rather comical, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. If he were someone passing by, he’d laugh at the scene. Unfortunately, he isn’t just passing by; he’s smack in the middle of the whole ordeal. Just hit me. She wasn’t…he doesn’t think she was serious, but there’s a whirl of emotions going through him and none of them are light. Just hit me. Just hit me. Just hit me. His chest feels tight as he recalls another voice, one he had assumed he’d forgotten, going through his head in a tone that didn’t match Alys’ at all. He clears his throat to get that horrible sense of unease away from him before he cracks a small, unwanted smile, rolling his eyes at the girl in front of him to show that he wasn’t affected by that  at all. And why should he be? He was a boy from Pyke! People from that little city didn’t feel scared or helpless. 

Moments later and then a nod because it can’t be that bad, and there is no point in possibly upsetting her.

A quick nod, approved.

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