So demanding. [ dutch drawls the worlds out slowly, lifting a hand to pat his chest again like she's smoothing down another fold in his shirt left by her fingers. in truth, she's doing it half to keep up appearances and half to— annoy him a little, honestly.
that's what he gets for telling her he'd rather hold her hand than anything else.
(she doesn't expect it to actually work. if he's suppressing his emotions like that, annoyance probably won't creep up. he won't let it make him uncomfortable. that's both comforting and annoying, in its own way. it's also not the sort of thing dutch will linger on.) ]
no subject
that's what he gets for telling her he'd rather hold her hand than anything else.
(she doesn't expect it to actually work. if he's suppressing his emotions like that, annoyance probably won't creep up. he won't let it make him uncomfortable. that's both comforting and annoying, in its own way. it's also not the sort of thing dutch will linger on.) ]
Fifty-ish. Less than seventy, more than thirty.
[ a beat. ]
Feeling warmer about the safehouse now?