[ It could be that he was fishing for that we, tripping off her tongue to echo in his mouth. His smile tilts into a grin, a mirror to the slant of the one she wears best, and he tosses his arm back aside so he can rock himself up to sitting. ]
If I have to.
[ Alec would do pretty much anything Aisha asked him to. That's not because she's in charge of him, even if he doesn't mind playing along with the idea from time to time - when it's funny, or convenient, or he doesn't have a reason not to - but because she has the best ideas.
But it's fun to pretend she's twisting his arm, like it's fun to pretend she has to provoke him. He pulls them both up to their feet, swinging Aisha's arms idly at her sides for the joy of two equally functional shoulders, and spins her on her heel to propel her towards the door. He has her snag a black silk scarf out of his dresser on the way, draping it over her nose and tying it deftly under her hair at the nape of her neck. ]
I'll catch up. But first - let's scope out what he's up to, shall we?
[ Letting Aisha's power flick on while he's holding her is an experience he only ever remembers as he does it. A shivery little veil of ghost signal slides over the edge of his own power, then melts away.
He doesn't mind the split-second gap of nothing. It's a blink, and there she is again, striding unseen down the hall like she already really does own it. He lifts her hand to trail over the cool stone walls, humming the opening bars of the one song he's heard here he thinks she'd actually like. ]
Gonna take my horse to the old town road...
[ Her voice sing-songs, cleaner and sweeter than his, before he slips control of her mouth back to her. He doesn't ever hold onto her throat very long. What's the point of just talking to himself?
Palamedes isn't always careful about locking his door. It's all the foot traffic, Alec supposes, and, of course, the super serious magical wards. He doesn't think they'll be a problem, but just in case, he only ventures Aisha's fingertips just past the threshold at first. When nothing happens, he smiles behind his own mask, bouncing his walkie-talkie in his hand as he follows in Aisha's footsteps.
Aisha's feet traipse lightly into Pal's room, and she skims over to where the grey-robed archenemy of fun broods. Her fingers slip to the walkie-talkie, and Alec brings his own up to his mouth. ]
Palamedes. [ He says, in tones of utter reasonableness. ] For an alleged genius, you absolutely suck at risk assessment. Has anyone ever told you that? I feel like someone has to have told you that.
no subject
If I have to.
[ Alec would do pretty much anything Aisha asked him to. That's not because she's in charge of him, even if he doesn't mind playing along with the idea from time to time - when it's funny, or convenient, or he doesn't have a reason not to - but because she has the best ideas.
But it's fun to pretend she's twisting his arm, like it's fun to pretend she has to provoke him. He pulls them both up to their feet, swinging Aisha's arms idly at her sides for the joy of two equally functional shoulders, and spins her on her heel to propel her towards the door. He has her snag a black silk scarf out of his dresser on the way, draping it over her nose and tying it deftly under her hair at the nape of her neck. ]
I'll catch up. But first - let's scope out what he's up to, shall we?
[ Letting Aisha's power flick on while he's holding her is an experience he only ever remembers as he does it. A shivery little veil of ghost signal slides over the edge of his own power, then melts away.
He doesn't mind the split-second gap of nothing. It's a blink, and there she is again, striding unseen down the hall like she already really does own it. He lifts her hand to trail over the cool stone walls, humming the opening bars of the one song he's heard here he thinks she'd actually like. ]
Gonna take my horse to the old town road...
[ Her voice sing-songs, cleaner and sweeter than his, before he slips control of her mouth back to her. He doesn't ever hold onto her throat very long. What's the point of just talking to himself?
Palamedes isn't always careful about locking his door. It's all the foot traffic, Alec supposes, and, of course, the super serious magical wards. He doesn't think they'll be a problem, but just in case, he only ventures Aisha's fingertips just past the threshold at first. When nothing happens, he smiles behind his own mask, bouncing his walkie-talkie in his hand as he follows in Aisha's footsteps.
Aisha's feet traipse lightly into Pal's room, and she skims over to where the grey-robed archenemy of fun broods. Her fingers slip to the walkie-talkie, and Alec brings his own up to his mouth. ]
Palamedes. [ He says, in tones of utter reasonableness. ] For an alleged genius, you absolutely suck at risk assessment. Has anyone ever told you that? I feel like someone has to have told you that.