milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Lawrence is, at the moment, settled down with his arms behind his neck on the grass next to the lake.

To the untrained eye it might appear that he's fallen asleep, but he's really paying quite close attention. He's enjoying the cool evening - his shirt is bunched up behind his head to act as a pillow.

As such, his fairly scarred upper body is exposed, but he doesn't seem very bothered.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He sighs.

Because really, he'd like to figure out what's wrong, but it's a bit difficult at the moment.

"Anyway."

Rests her head on her knees, eyes fluttering shut.

[ooc: I must bed - so sorry!]

[OOC: No worries.]

Lawrence watches her curiously, hoping she'll be able to sleep soon.

No, not soon. Not while there's other people. So she gets up and moves back to the tree, sitting with her back to the trunk and quietly watching Lawrence.

Lawrence sighs again, leaning against the trunk.

Buggering vampires.

That's one way to put it.

She's eying him with something like longing.

He frowns.

"If you want to come and sit, Mal, then come and sit."

"I. Can't."

"Because you're going to try and eat me?"

He sounds rather amused.

"Because I don't want to lose control again."

Flatly.

"And so sitting up in a tree for the rest of your physical life is the obvious solution, as opposed to learning some form of self-control."

Right.

"Yeah."

Sulkily.

"Right."

He shakes his head. "Self-control is, I'm told, a good thing to learn."

"I had self control."

Plays with the grass.

"And now you don't."

"And now I don't."

Tilts her head back to watch the sky.

"You do know the only way to earn such things back is practice."

"Sometimes I think I don't want to. And then I do, and then I don't."

Stares at her hands.

"Satan gave Sands a gun and I think it's screwing with my head."

Satan.

Right, and Frost had said he was a jolly good fellow.

Preposterous.

"Well. If you want to be around anyone but yourself, it's a useful skill."

"Okay."

She flops forward, sprawling on the ground. Closer.

He watches.

"I won't let you hurt me. Don't worry."

Inches closer.

One hand, cold and scarred, is sneakily placed on his knee.

He sneakily places one on top of it.

"All right?"

{OOC: I was distracted by icons. Say sorry. ):}

"'m okay."

Moves another inch over.

He nods.

"Well, all right then."