The sudden sound of the door opening to his study made the young man flinch out of his deep reverie, head rounding towards the entrance as soon as he heard the door snap closed. An angry bark to leave me the hell alone was on the tip of his tongue for the anticipated overzealous servant, though he swallowed it just in time.
Acting as though he was fleeing from something, Cassian watched impassively while Vincent pressed his ear to the door and waited. For a moment he thought Vince simply slithered his way along the shadows to follow him here until he found an effective opening, in the cunning way he knew him capable of. Though it was obvious once he turned that he found Cass's presence here jarring. The Gryffindor felt a spasm in his stomach to see the look of shock, then inner debate swirl across his friend’s expression for a moment. It dispelled as quickly as he caught a glimpse of it, however, and an icy mask descended over the other’s visage.
It was lucky that Cassian schooled himself long ago, since childhood really, to render his face inscrutable. It was not proper for the man of the house to be swayed so easily by something as silly as emotion, so even as Vincent spat out his words like venom, the blonde remained unmovable. That isn’t to say his friend’s words didn’t pierce him all the same.
“I didn’t run anywhere,” he responded, broad shoulders hiking in a small shrug. It was hard to ignore the way Vince looked - as though he hadn’t slept a wink, his shirt badly wrinkled. Had the other turned on his heel and walked right out, Cassian wouldn’t have been surprised, though he didn’t, and… that didn’t altogether surprise him either. “You know where I’ve been.”
His hands itched for something to grab hold of to occupy his attention. So the blonde turned absently to one of the drawers at his desk, rifling through its contents a moment to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. It afforded him the mental space he needed right now, to look at the situation before them a bit more… objectively. Lighting one for himself, he tossed the pack on the desk so it slid down towards Vincent’s general direction. Though he would have preferred having this conversation another time (or more accurately, never), they were here now. The room felt… tense.
“You can sit.” If you want to, the tiniest stitch between his eyebrows suggested. But Cassian’s voice came out much more cold and distant than planned, in fact it sounded like it came from a different body altogether. As though to make up for it, he gestured towards the leather wingback armchair across from him.
Time can never mend the careless whisper of a good friend…
Acting as though he was fleeing from something, Cassian watched impassively while Vincent pressed his ear to the door and waited. For a moment he thought Vince simply slithered his way along the shadows to follow him here until he found an effective opening, in the cunning way he knew him capable of. Though it was obvious once he turned that he found Cass's presence here jarring. The Gryffindor felt a spasm in his stomach to see the look of shock, then inner debate swirl across his friend’s expression for a moment. It dispelled as quickly as he caught a glimpse of it, however, and an icy mask descended over the other’s visage.
It was lucky that Cassian schooled himself long ago, since childhood really, to render his face inscrutable. It was not proper for the man of the house to be swayed so easily by something as silly as emotion, so even as Vincent spat out his words like venom, the blonde remained unmovable. That isn’t to say his friend’s words didn’t pierce him all the same.
“I didn’t run anywhere,” he responded, broad shoulders hiking in a small shrug. It was hard to ignore the way Vince looked - as though he hadn’t slept a wink, his shirt badly wrinkled. Had the other turned on his heel and walked right out, Cassian wouldn’t have been surprised, though he didn’t, and… that didn’t altogether surprise him either. “You know where I’ve been.”
His hands itched for something to grab hold of to occupy his attention. So the blonde turned absently to one of the drawers at his desk, rifling through its contents a moment to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. It afforded him the mental space he needed right now, to look at the situation before them a bit more… objectively. Lighting one for himself, he tossed the pack on the desk so it slid down towards Vincent’s general direction. Though he would have preferred having this conversation another time (or more accurately, never), they were here now. The room felt… tense.
“You can sit.” If you want to, the tiniest stitch between his eyebrows suggested. But Cassian’s voice came out much more cold and distant than planned, in fact it sounded like it came from a different body altogether. As though to make up for it, he gestured towards the leather wingback armchair across from him.
Time can never mend the careless whisper of a good friend…
![[Image: BC4TW0z.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/BC4TW0z.jpeg)
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