“Well, yes,” he cut in, hastily, unmovable face finally twitching into a scowl. He didn’t understand what Vince was on about, not knowing where he was. Wasn’t it obvious? “I’ve only been in my bedroom, and here in the study now. Where else would I be?” That wasn’t meant to come out with a scoff at the end, but there it was. Things were going as well as could be expected.
At the Slytherin’s caustic rejection of a seat, Cassian shoved the lit cigarette into his mouth and took a particularly deep huff. As if to say, well fine, have it your way. The action helped control the frown he felt deepening, and the billow of smoke produced a buffer beyond the desk to keep them apart. It wasn’t fear or trepidation that made the big blonde want to keep his distance. It was the look Vincent leveled at him now that made the situation feel volatile. If they came any closer, Cass wasn’t sure if he should expect a punch or a caress, and was inclined to avoid either.
The way the other chose to proceed warped his heart more than made him angry. This biting tone was typically reserved for idiots, for bigots, for bullies. Cassian realized at that moment that he’d never been on the receiving end of Vincent’s ire before. The thought drew his eyebrows together in consternation as if the other had spoken in a foreign tongue.
“Fine. I suppose we should,” he agreed with a hint of dismay, deciding to not read into his friend’s sigh. How the hell did he think they could tidy this shit up? Once he issued his command, as it sounded, his proposed solution finally began to register. What, like last words? “But unfortunately I did not come prepared with a damn eulogy.” Though he responded with coldness in kind, his curse word belied the undercurrent of sorrow building up in his chest. What the fuck was he saying to him?
“Don’t be absurd,” Cassian relented after a beat, tone harder than he meant. “Tomorrow is already Sunday and our train is the next morning. It would be a waste of everyone’s time.” If this was his way of trying to convince the other to stay, he was doing a shit job of it. And he knew as much. But by god, he could not muster a single thought or sentence that could help breach brain to heart. That connection was severed, if it ever even existed in Cassian at all. “You don’t need to inconvenience yourself over this. Just… move past it.” How one can be expected to move past, or even what ‘it’ meant, Cassian did not care to define. Perhaps his blue eyed gaze held a clue, which now leveled a look that tried to implore Vince.
At the Slytherin’s caustic rejection of a seat, Cassian shoved the lit cigarette into his mouth and took a particularly deep huff. As if to say, well fine, have it your way. The action helped control the frown he felt deepening, and the billow of smoke produced a buffer beyond the desk to keep them apart. It wasn’t fear or trepidation that made the big blonde want to keep his distance. It was the look Vincent leveled at him now that made the situation feel volatile. If they came any closer, Cass wasn’t sure if he should expect a punch or a caress, and was inclined to avoid either.
The way the other chose to proceed warped his heart more than made him angry. This biting tone was typically reserved for idiots, for bigots, for bullies. Cassian realized at that moment that he’d never been on the receiving end of Vincent’s ire before. The thought drew his eyebrows together in consternation as if the other had spoken in a foreign tongue.
“Fine. I suppose we should,” he agreed with a hint of dismay, deciding to not read into his friend’s sigh. How the hell did he think they could tidy this shit up? Once he issued his command, as it sounded, his proposed solution finally began to register. What, like last words? “But unfortunately I did not come prepared with a damn eulogy.” Though he responded with coldness in kind, his curse word belied the undercurrent of sorrow building up in his chest. What the fuck was he saying to him?
“Don’t be absurd,” Cassian relented after a beat, tone harder than he meant. “Tomorrow is already Sunday and our train is the next morning. It would be a waste of everyone’s time.” If this was his way of trying to convince the other to stay, he was doing a shit job of it. And he knew as much. But by god, he could not muster a single thought or sentence that could help breach brain to heart. That connection was severed, if it ever even existed in Cassian at all. “You don’t need to inconvenience yourself over this. Just… move past it.” How one can be expected to move past, or even what ‘it’ meant, Cassian did not care to define. Perhaps his blue eyed gaze held a clue, which now leveled a look that tried to implore Vince.
![[Image: BC4TW0z.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/BC4TW0z.jpeg)
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