daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

Yes, but...

[He shifts just enough to turn on his side, though his eyes are still cast up towards her.]

There is no better sight for a man to wake up to than your face.

[He is a very lucky man, and no one can tell him otherwise. Though a slow realization begins to dawn on him-]

...Is that my shirt?

It is. Borrowed it.

[too big, of course, and half buttoning it didn't help, but comfortable in that. besides, it wasn't like she had to be perfectly decent.]

Do I wear it as well as you?

Well. Other than being a few sizes too big, it does suit you. But there is very little that does not.

[His smile skews into something wry, any drowsiness he possessed slowly draining, as is his habit. And yet it does nothing to quell the feeling of this being a lazy, lackadaisical morning.]

However... I should label you a thief for taking what isn't yours. I'll have to ask for it back.

You can't be persuaded to let me keep it? Just for a few moments longer.

[it's the right time to be lazy, to plead without anything serious in it.]

It's a terrible thief who lets what she's stolen be returned so swiftly.

That's true, but I never said that you were a talented thief. Showing off your ill-gotten gains right in front of the owner.

[He laughs a little, though, hair falling into his face as the settles comfortably into his pillow again.]

You could persuade me, depending on how you decide to do it. Or I could retrieve it myself, if that fails. It wouldn't be difficult.

Let me try persuading you, and if you're not convinced, take it back.

[her version of persuading, this morning, is to shift to be on top of him, grinning. he's not allowed to say anything else before she kisses him, lingering there. she'll take any excuse to do so, this morning being no different, "persuasion" or not.]

[Well. No complaints from Ardyn as she shifts on top of him, her warmth pressing against his own. He'll take this mode of persuasion any time she likes.

But of course he has to tease. When he's allowed to reply after she's finished leaving that lingering kiss on his lips -- though his is just as eager.]

If this is you persuading me to let you keep my shirt, I think you've got it backwards.

Why, my dear? Can't you see how happy keeping it makes me?

[and yet, she knows. knows there's not a chance of her being allowed to keep it if they keep on this path.]

[He gives her a knowing look, gazing up at her.]

I see.

[He brings his arms up to loop around her back, fingers lacing together.]

I didn't know that wearing my shirt made you happier than lying unclothed next to me. I'm not sure what to think about that.

Now, I never said that. Don't draw assumptions.

[she doesn't move far from his face, kissing him again, but only something light.]

You're going to give yourself the wrong idea.

[Again, the kiss is returned. And as she remains close to him, his words are barely more than a whisper in response.]

But what else is a man to think? To assume? Actions speak louder than words, my dearest. And you're very decidedly still wearing my shirt.

Actions, you say.

[pushing herself up some, she begins taking off his shirt, shrugging her way out of it and tossing it to the side.]

And what do you think now, hm?

[It takes a bit of willpower to look at her as if he's trying to decide just exactly what he thinks. As if he doesn't know already what he wants to do, or where this path is leading to. A lovely Sunday morning this is turning out to be, indeed.]

I think my poor shirt is going to garner a few wrinkles, being tossed aside so carelessly like that.

[He moves his hands to her side, trying urge her close again.]

-is what I would say if I actually gave a damn about my shirt right now.

What do you give a damn about, Ardyn?

[she comes back close, but she doesn't kiss him, stays simply teasingly near instead.]

Say it aloud.

[Oh, she’s as much of a tease as him; perhaps even more so, because Grell knows exactly how to utilize it to drive him mad — in all the good ways. And she’s hovering so close, how can he not look eager to kiss her again? Yet Ardyn manages to pull together the scraps of willpower he still possesses to reply instead.]

Does it even need to be said? Can’t you tell?

[He’s sure that she can, but he’ll not deny her the pleasure of him actually forming the words.]

I want you. All of you.

[In a playful move, he deigns to sit up; in one swift gesture, he shifts her so that she is still neatly on top of him, but affectionately straddled in his lap. The blankets slide and fall, crumpling at his waistline, as he rests his hands on her sides.

(Unknowing to him, it reveals scars across his chest and torso. They look old and faded, but drawn out in length, and appearing like they were once painfully deep. One in particular predominantly adorns his skin over the location of his heart, as if it were once a focal point.)]

Would you be kind enough to humor me?

[she's about to reply, but the look in her eyes changes as she catches sight of those scars. she knows very well that those weren't there before, that there's no way she could have overlooked them. some part of her mind instantly is cross-referencing, trying to figure out what they're from, how they healed. another part feels something in her twist, thinking that he was hurt like this.]

Ardyn...

[her hand comes to rest over his heart, feeling what's there. why? what had happened to him?]

[That look in her eyes is not what he expected, something in the mood shifting. For a second, he wonders if he said something wrong, though he cannot hope to imagine what. And then Grell touches him, her hand over his heart, able to feel its rhythmic beating. He glances down, and what he sees spindling out from beneath her fingertips surprises him.]

What…?

[His own fingers trace the scars on his chest, the skin having healed there possessing a smoother texture than the rest. He would not know as well as her, but they look like cut marks, long and clean and purposeful. Not the jagged edges of accidental wounds, or the claw marks of monsters.

His blood runs cold for a moment. He wonders what could have done this, how he could be sleeping and he did not notice— No, this was Retrospec again. It had to be. The other him, imprinting more and more of himself onto his mind and body, that slow, inevitable transition.

Ardyn clenches a jaw, his brow knit tightly.]

These weren’t… there before.

[A useless, obvious statement. But he’s so thrown off he doesn’t know what else to say.]

They weren't.

[this was intentional, she can tell. she can't tell what did it, but these scars, she'd be willing to bet that almost all of them were intentional. long healed, but...]

Let me check your back.

[they both know who did this. what did this. out of nowhere, what could happen. but best to see how extensive this all is.]

[He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s afraid of what she might find on his back. His brain makes a cursory check of what his body feels — no pain, nothing different. He should take solace in that, but it’s difficult in the wake of a new discovery like this.

He drops his hand, nodding. After the both of them situate themselves so that they can move more freely on the bed, Ardyn turns around.

His back looks much the same. There is not one that looked like it had been a deep gouge over the heart, but there seem to be even more scars in general here.]

Anything…?

[so, so lightly, she traces over a few of them, taking in the extent of the damage. someone - something - wanted to hurt him, that's the only conclusion she can draw. and that mark on his heart, so targeted. perhaps there should be some comfort in them being healed, but she can't find it.]

There's more here. How do you feel?

[a standard question after any change, but her voice is soft. does he hurt? does he remember anything from these?]

[The gentle tracing of her fingertips almost makes him shiver. Especially when he thinks of how she must be following the trail of his scarring — he wonders how prominent they look. He wonders what could have done such a thing to him, to the other him.]

They don’t hurt, if that’s what you’re referring to. I would not have noticed them at all, until I looked in a mirror.

[Long healed and faded, then. Pale lines across his skin, a ghost to remind him of a past that still evaded him completely.]

Perhaps they are… injuries sustained during my travels. [He frowns.] That man was a traveling healer, after all, and I do remember there being fearsome monsters in my world.

Perhaps.

[but she doesn't sound convinced. these scars are such that she wonders as to their origins, when she's seen cuts that are so straight. so lethal, in other conditions.

if it was a monster, maybe it would make it better. instead she bows her head to one of the scars, kissing it as gently as she had touched it.

it's alright.]

[The sensation of her lips on his back is a small comfort. But it only makes him want to shift around to face her -- he does, half-turning his body so that she catches his profile when he glances back to look at Grell.

He's no fool. He hears the skepticism in her tone. He knows what the alternative may be.]

What do you think it's from?

[At the end of the day, she's the doctor.]

Something sharp. A degree of precision, but not delicate. I've seen knife wounds like this - couldn't tell you what made these though, it could be a lot of things with this result given how you healed. And...

[she reaches to touch his heart again.]

This...collection is puncture. Stabbing, if I was forced to guess.

[The silence grew thick between them, almost tangible. It was uncomfortable, and so Ardyn turned to face her properly. Though he was oblivious to the scars not a minute ago, now they felt like brands cast across his form.]

You're telling me that all this was done purposefully.

[His own hand reaches up to gently rest on hers.]

That someone tried to kill me.

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