There is no mistaking the sweet sincerity in Simon's voice for anything merely polite--"I'm glad for the permission"--and a small foolish smile steals onto Myr's face to hear it. "I should have warned you," he replies, voice warm as the glow that confession kindles in his chest. "Instead of lying around in wait to tempt your eyes past bearing." Of course that's not what he means by warned but it's easier to make a joke of it, to make no reference to that painful idea--you are a thing that people ought to be warned about, not for his magic but for his scars. Yet he'd so much rather to not have surprised Simon, if he had to be so completely naked before his friend. But of everything he'd feared for that eventual revelation--this is the best way it could have worked out, he thinks.
Still, he keeps his face politely averted, as if looking at the warming glyph he's tracing out on the screen. It is small and simple, a matter of seconds before it flicks to gentle life and he can drape the blindfold to hang over it to dry out. (The first real time he's tried such a use since Petrana suggested it might be done; hopefully, it works on a reasonable timescale.) "But it's forgiven," he continues, "though maybe I shouldn't go so easy on you now that you're one up on me; I don't even know your face yet."
He could find out; it wouldn't be so hard to reach out and-- But don't think so hard on what Simon must be doing that his voice should be so near the floor. Don't dwell on that, or this situation will rapidly become embarrassing again for an entirely other reason.
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There is no mistaking the sweet sincerity in Simon's voice for anything merely polite--"I'm glad for the permission"--and a small foolish smile steals onto Myr's face to hear it. "I should have warned you," he replies, voice warm as the glow that confession kindles in his chest. "Instead of lying around in wait to tempt your eyes past bearing." Of course that's not what he means by warned but it's easier to make a joke of it, to make no reference to that painful idea--you are a thing that people ought to be warned about, not for his magic but for his scars. Yet he'd so much rather to not have surprised Simon, if he had to be so completely naked before his friend. But of everything he'd feared for that eventual revelation--this is the best way it could have worked out, he thinks.
Still, he keeps his face politely averted, as if looking at the warming glyph he's tracing out on the screen. It is small and simple, a matter of seconds before it flicks to gentle life and he can drape the blindfold to hang over it to dry out. (The first real time he's tried such a use since Petrana suggested it might be done; hopefully, it works on a reasonable timescale.) "But it's forgiven," he continues, "though maybe I shouldn't go so easy on you now that you're one up on me; I don't even know your face yet."
He could find out; it wouldn't be so hard to reach out and-- But don't think so hard on what Simon must be doing that his voice should be so near the floor. Don't dwell on that, or this situation will rapidly become embarrassing again for an entirely other reason.