forum Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Started December 04, 2018 by @KalamariCakes

tune

"You seem mildly disgusted by my tendencies," George returned with a quiet laugh, closing his book and drawing his legs up onto the armchair.

"Not disgusted," Bailey breathed, scratched his chin, "Curious. Confused."

"Well, you confuse me too, Mr. Bailey." George wasn't quite sure what had brought on his light, carefree teasing, but he was definitely enjoying it.

He cast him another curious look. "Thanks?"

"Mm." George tugged lightly on the edge of his sleeve.

Bailey's face got very red for seemingly little reason, and he touched his cheek upon feeling them flush. "…Hot flash…" He mumbled.

"Pardon?" George tilted his head; it was his turn to be confused.

"Must be the coffee," Bailey spoke, setting it down to go open a window, cool himself down.

"Ah." He nodded, still not fully understanding, and stood to follow.
(Christmas day or Christmas eve?)

Eve)

"Thank you again, for dinner," he turned to George.

(kk)

"It was my pleasure," he replied warmly, standing closer to the other man than strictly necessary.

He peered back outside, towards the nighttime blanket of snow. "Though, I will admit it's lovely when it's fresh.."

George nodded in agreement. "And it'll be pretty under the light of day."

"…" Bailey replied with thoughtful silence. Being severed from the trials of war, a healthy introversion was starting to settle in. The real Bailey.

Giving a thoughtful smile, George tapped Bailey's shoulder lightly, having grown more comfortable around the other man in the months they had lived together. "I like seeing this version of you."

He blinked his bluejay eyes, "This version?" He inquired.

"Mm. Softened, in a way. Less of a soldier and more of a……" He trailed off, trying to peg down the right word. "More of a Bailey."

A faint smile lifted his romanesque lips. "I should hope I am at my most genuine." He looked back at the snow through the window.

Finally. Once again, he had succeeding in summoning a small smile to Bailey's lips. An odd fluttering sensation in his chest drew the bartender's attention away from his long-term guest.

Bailey drew a deep breath, "When I fell from the ceiling," he began, referring back to his darkest day, "I cursed the first saving gasp of oxygen i took, how badly I wanted to die." He murmured. "And then I fell asleep. I slept for almost an entire day," Bailey went on.

George listened with his whole, his eyes fixed to the other man's. He didn't speak for fear of interrupting and let the men continue.

Bailey met his gaze, "That's the best sleep I had for a decade. And I've slept as wholesomely since then,"

(*man, sorry, I made a typo)

"Well…. that's something," he murmured quietly, eyes glazed over with something like sympathy.

He closed his mouth. "It's strange how flirting with death is cathartic."

"Again, poetic… in a horribly twisted way." George rested one hand on his windowsill, seeming to be lost in thought.