What Dresden looks like is a pale flamingo, his long legs shifted with easy grace (impressive, as John finds every surface of Arctis Tor slightly slippery), his head animated and birdlike with that discerning animal darkness to his wide pupils, surrounded by that thin ring of amber.
It makes John breathe out through his nose slowly, keeping a stranglehold on the parts of him that want to snap that tile and hide. In the past, when John challenged Dresden in words or action, Dresden fought, but almost refused to truly engage It was always "scumbag" this and "lesser evil" that. Never something head-on, not outside of combat where they rose to each other and worked together like a machine.
This must've been what Dresden felt like. John is almost sympathetic.
"Good care," John echoes quietly. If his skin flushes at the thought of what good care entails, he hopes it's blamed on the chill in the air. The last person John was with intimately wanted to murder him and almost succeeded. When he recalls that... Nothing Dresden can throw at him could be worse. And to be in someone's care for a night, after years without a night of absolute peace... Just the idea of that release of burden is as seductive as anything else.
He takes his hand out of his pocket, leaves the tile there. "If no one has told, then I have certainly taken a misstep. Perhaps my own pride could use some mending." And here John drags his eyes from Dresden's face and sweeps them quick but calculative over the Knight's form.
John steps forward sharply, stopping with his toes very precisely touching against Dresden's. "Go on. Be frank with me or I'll be on my way out." And John never dreamed that the bait he would use on this man would be himself. That... was unfathomable even an hour ago.
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It makes John breathe out through his nose slowly, keeping a stranglehold on the parts of him that want to snap that tile and hide. In the past, when John challenged Dresden in words or action, Dresden fought, but almost refused to truly engage It was always "scumbag" this and "lesser evil" that. Never something head-on, not outside of combat where they rose to each other and worked together like a machine.
This must've been what Dresden felt like. John is almost sympathetic.
"Good care," John echoes quietly. If his skin flushes at the thought of what good care entails, he hopes it's blamed on the chill in the air. The last person John was with intimately wanted to murder him and almost succeeded. When he recalls that... Nothing Dresden can throw at him could be worse. And to be in someone's care for a night, after years without a night of absolute peace... Just the idea of that release of burden is as seductive as anything else.
He takes his hand out of his pocket, leaves the tile there. "If no one has told, then I have certainly taken a misstep. Perhaps my own pride could use some mending." And here John drags his eyes from Dresden's face and sweeps them quick but calculative over the Knight's form.
John steps forward sharply, stopping with his toes very precisely touching against Dresden's. "Go on. Be frank with me or I'll be on my way out." And John never dreamed that the bait he would use on this man would be himself. That... was unfathomable even an hour ago.