Four hours. Afraid the sun might take offense if you're not already awake to greet it?
[He chuckles under his breath, gravitating towards the shelf Tseng indicated before he even goes to check the creamer that's already open — either because he just likes to be prepared or because he fully expects to use it all up, who can say. He does have to reach for it, though, which affords a nice view of the whole line of his body as he retrieves it and shuffles towards the mugs to start getting his drink together.
He's lucky he doesn't drop it, when he happens to glance over right as a stray lock of hair falls against Tseng's cheek, loosed from the way it's pinned back, and those long fingers absently come up to brush it behind his ear again — sweet Shiva —
And, on a different morning in a different time and place, maybe he would've just left it at that. Swallowed hard and savored the memory and kept his eyes forward and focused on the business at hand. But lately — lately things have been a little different, haven't they? And maybe that's what Tseng's boss would do in a situation like this, is keep his thoughts and his business to himself, but maybe that's also not what Rufus would do.]
Your hair looks good like that.
[He sets the creamer and mug back down, very carefully, very soft. He pads over to where Tseng is sitting, albeit with the mercy of the countertop between them to keep him from doing something truly insane.
But not something half-insane: he reaches across, with just two fingers, and eases that same strand of hair out again from where Tseng had smoothed it back, letting it fall back against his cheek where it'd been before.
It's only when he thinks about saying something else that it occurs to him he's been holding his breath the whole time.]
no subject
[He chuckles under his breath, gravitating towards the shelf Tseng indicated before he even goes to check the creamer that's already open — either because he just likes to be prepared or because he fully expects to use it all up, who can say. He does have to reach for it, though, which affords a nice view of the whole line of his body as he retrieves it and shuffles towards the mugs to start getting his drink together.
He's lucky he doesn't drop it, when he happens to glance over right as a stray lock of hair falls against Tseng's cheek, loosed from the way it's pinned back, and those long fingers absently come up to brush it behind his ear again — sweet Shiva —
And, on a different morning in a different time and place, maybe he would've just left it at that. Swallowed hard and savored the memory and kept his eyes forward and focused on the business at hand. But lately — lately things have been a little different, haven't they? And maybe that's what Tseng's boss would do in a situation like this, is keep his thoughts and his business to himself, but maybe that's also not what Rufus would do.]
Your hair looks good like that.
[He sets the creamer and mug back down, very carefully, very soft. He pads over to where Tseng is sitting, albeit with the mercy of the countertop between them to keep him from doing something truly insane.
But not something half-insane: he reaches across, with just two fingers, and eases that same strand of hair out again from where Tseng had smoothed it back, letting it fall back against his cheek where it'd been before.
It's only when he thinks about saying something else that it occurs to him he's been holding his breath the whole time.]
...And better like this.