Hylas was struck speechless as Cas' heavy, green gaze swept over him, comfortably judgemental or…something else. All at once, a wave of heat crowded his collar and his eyes watered at the overwhelming feeling of being seen in a way he'd never known. Perhaps it was the furnace, but after a few long seconds of standing away— shocked and thoughtless over a box of spices, Hylas' mouth was still dry and his heart still shivered. Logic told him that Cas was only doing it to toy with him; to go along with the dangerous narrative they'd weaved themselves into. Why else would he insist on such an idea? To spite him? To make fun of his solitude? Something in the way his attention spilled over Hylas seemed to press a gentle touch over his skin. Like a pair of phantom hands moving down from his shoulders, Hylas had been suffocated by the pleasant shock of such an indecent suggestion. He poured himself a cup of water, trying not to let his shaking hands show as he tried to recenter himself. "Well, that's….good to know," He almost croaked, quickly cooling himself down with a hurried sip. Unable to resist stopping, he leaned against the far wall and watched Cas work. "But…I have to know. Do you tell everyone about these feelings you have towards…sparring?" There, he wore a playfully accusative look. His smile was crooked but controlled as he spoke. "Or just the ones you fear might come out on top?" A cold surge of dread was quick to meet him and just as quick to leave. Hurried reassurance told him to stick to his choice of words, standing tall and mirroring the reckless confidence of the man before him. "After all, you were the one who walked away dizzy and a little…banged up." If there's any magic in the prince of Eirus, it's in the power of his words and that gaze. The casual arrogance of his claims was impossibly attractive to Hylas. Cas was powerful. They both knew that. But all that famed strength was in his name and title. Until now, Hylas hadn't known anything about the real power he held over people, and that was— along with being bewitchingly beautiful —the lilting ability to draw out whatever his victim most wanted. In that single moment, what his victim wanted; what Hylas wanted was Cas.
The glint in Cas' eyes was dangerous, mind racing and filling with endless possibilities and scenarios. They were toying a very fine line, and one wrong move could have it spiralling from the fun it was, what it could turn into, speeding directly in the opposite direction. But gods was it satisfying to hear Hylas speechless, to sense how fast both their hearts were beating and to know how calculated their responses were. Hylas could have stopped it right there, but he hadn't, definitely not with that word choice. The grip on the knife only tightened a fraction, if anything to compose himself. He finished the root he was working on, placing the knife to one side as he licked his lips, finally looking back to Hylas slowly, "The ones who hear about those feelings are the ones I think I have the skill to go up against me." A shrug, holding Hylas' gaze, unmoving from his place at the counter, "There's nothing to suggest I don't mind letting others come out on top. Being in control all the time becomes so boring. And anyway…" He sighed, turning to face Hylas from his place across the room, "It's nice to see how far your sparring partner is willing to go to get you in such a vulnerable position. If they have the guts to do so." Cas bit his lip. Was it the fire that had the room suddenly so warm or was it the twisting, satisfying feeling growing in his stomach? Even from across the room, nowhere near each other, Cas could feel the tension between them, an invisible string urging him to go closer, test the waters more, see what Hylas would do in response. So far his reactions had been nothing short of wonderful. From the stuttering to the heat rising in his cheeks. He was playing a dangerous game with the most dangerous man he knew, and Cas was loving it. The back of his mind, the logical part, the one that screamed at him to stop it before things got out of hand, but he couldn't, he didn't want to, not now that he'd seen just a sliver of this part of Hylas. What would he do next? He was aching to know, desperate for his reply, those words with subtle undertones, the hidden meaning beneath them, like a drug Cas didn't know he wanted, or needed, and craved more of.
"And since I've heard about those feelings, you're saying that makes me…Hmm." The gentle raise of his eyebrows challenged the specifics of his claim, and with a dismissive shake of his head, Hylas hummed in amusement. The stubborn rapport between them served ceaseless rounds of doublespeak, where the tension ran high and the indecent suggestions ran wild. He knew the prince of Eirus was different from most, but he didn't expect to learn this novelty about him. Cas was a flirt, and as much as Hylas was craved and enjoyed the attention— those quietly hungry looks couldn't be anything more than an experimental teasing. Hylas knew that he shouldn't have indulged in replying to Cas' playful quips, but the idea of getting such a reaction out of him was too tempting. In his mind, as long as he knew that Cas was only doing this for a laugh, it didn't matter if Hylas went along and made him feel the same way. All this talk about preference and dynamic made his head spin, partly from the Cas' unprincely boldness and partly from his own natural reactions towards his words. The confidence behind Cas' low, comfortable tone was sweet and stirring. It had him shy and bold all at once, filling him up with an unfamiliar excitement. "It sounds like you've thought about this quite a bit, Cas," Hylas said, taking a few slow steps towards the counters, heavy eyes fixed on him as he spoke, pacing himself. Standing before Cas, Hylas felt defiant and almost as tempting as the prince. "Sounds like you know what you want," He said, dangerously soft. His head barely tilted to the side as he smiled, his gaze dropping down to the counter; as if he was only there to look for something. "And how you want it."
Cas smiled, maybe a little too innocently for their conversation, "More of a matter of who, instead of what, Hylas." He couldn't help but let his gaze flick over Hylas' face again, only for a moment now that they were closer together, "And I know exactly who, and how, I want it." Stop it. Stop before it gets out of hand. Cas had to place his hands in his pockets to stop them from twitching subtly. Gods that smile, he couldn't take his eyes off of it, of him. The playful flirting was getting out of hand, and Cas knew that, but he also knew that he wasn't entirely lying when he spoke. He could play it off as just casual, teasing as much as they wanted, but Cas knew, that there was truth behind his words. Would he ever admit to that out loud? Not anytime soon, especially when they were going to part ways soon and all of this would be entirely forgotten about. As much as Cas wished to see where it would lead to, chances were, it wouldn't go further than words and not-so-subtle innuendos. Maybe in a different lifetime, it might have gone further, but right now, Cas was aware there was no chance it would ever go rather than tense stars and smiles, glints in eyes and that soft, alluring tone they both had going on now. He should have stepped back, but his feet were glued to the ground. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to, and couldn't tear his gaze away from how stupidly soft Hylas' lips looked so close. It was a struggle to keep his breathing under control, or even to fight off the heat threatening to burn its way to his cheeks, but that casual swagger of confidence didn't falter even for a moment. Every excruciatingly slow moment that passed had endless possibilities coursed through him, and they all ended in ways that should never happen between a prince and an assassin.
It took everything Hylas had not to sheepishly look away and lose the comfortably excruciating staring contest. He wanted so badly to get close— to hear Cas' breath hitch and his own pulse scream as he whispered 'If you want it, take it. You're a prince, after all. Or, are you a coward?' and feel the air grow hotter and heavier. His breaths were quiet, shallow and furious with anticipation, and his hands were warm and uncertain. Only his gaze remained calm and unbothered by the challenging green stare. All he wanted was to see what Cas what do, but for now he'd have to make do with imagining it. Come on you, put down that knife and show me what you mean. The competitive impulse to give in was straight poison for Hylas, who felt thrilled and exhausted by thinking and feeling so much. If nausea could be pleasant, this is what it would feel like. A knotted stomach, crashing waves of chills and fever, and the waking delirium of a present dream-figure easing and inspiring the confusion. If Cas was as confident as he sounded, Hylas had no doubt that he wouldn't have finished the second sentence of his reply before something unimaginable would happen. Unimaginable like what? Like Cas doing more than just teasing; proving the honesty of his words through unforgivable acts. Could he push him to such a thing? Beyond any natural thoughts and harmless curiosities towards each other, crossing this line would be a scandal for Caspian. Surely, as a prince he had the knowledge and self-restraint to go no further, but what about as a man? Was he thinking of the consequences of risking it? Or a way to settle their exchange without any embarrassment? Did he want Cas to kiss him so he could somehow win their heated exchange? Or did he really want it, after all the stolen glances and lingering laughs? The dark swirl of feelings and the stubborn need to be right fought for control over his next words. There wasn't much in the way of reason. Every fibre of his being was drawn to him, and he didn't care if that had become apparent only through their conversation. Either way, he needed to know what came next. He opened his mouth to speak, already smirking at the terrible invitation when a loud sizzling broke the enchanted silence. "Shit," He muttered, lunging away from the kitchen and darting around the corner of the half-wall to meet the raging fire yapping at the soup pot boiling over.
The breath that Caspian let loose once Hylas had disappeared was ragged, and he would have screamed if he wasn't just around the corner. His heart was thundering so fast he could have sworn it was about to break his ribs and land on the floor, walk right over to the assassin and tell him exactly what scandalous things he was thinking about doing to him if Hylas would let him. His eyes squeezed shut, hands covering his face in an attempt to calm himself down. It was both a blessing and a curse that that soup had spilt over the side, preventing what would have happened if Hylas had managed to get his last few words out before being interrupted. Would he have gone further? Cas was ready to rip his head apart out of agony. There was a war. He was a prince. Hylas was an assassin, and they had no right to be teaing and exchanging conversation like that. But if Hylas had asked, even hinted just a little more that he wanted it just as much as he did, Cas knew he wouldn't be able to stop once he got started. Soup and dinner be damned when Hylas had been looking at him like that and subtly suggesting what they both knew they craved by now. Regaining his composure, Cas swallowed the rest of those thoughts to be entertained another day, grabbed the small board of roots and headed around the corner to see what was going on, "The soup better be alright because otherwise, I would have cut these roots up for nothing." He placed them gently on the table, making sure they wouldn't roll off the wobbly piece of furniture before taking a few steps towards Hylas, as if their conversation moments ago hadn't happened at all, and his mind still wasn't reeling and desperate to know what Hylas was going to say, or what he might have done to Cas in return. Would he be able to sleep at all tonight? Alone with the thoughts and images of what could have happened if they only had a little more time. It was unbearable to leave the conversation ending that way, Cas wanted nothing more than to kick the pot to the side and go back to their playful teasing and flirting and the desperate want for Hylas. Cas couldn't remember the last time someone had him worked up like that, not for a long time, but gods was he craving that rush again. Now he knew how far they were both willing to go, Cas prayed that just maybe, if time would allow, they could continue and cross those unspoken lines.
Red-faced and nearly gasping for breath, Hylas rushed to see to the angry soup. Muttering breathy curses, he hurriedly tried to calm the rapid boil by stirring it. In their distracted exchange, Hylas had forgotten the hanging pot of soup and the fire had grown too hot. Now, faced with a furious, fragrant steam and a roaring fire, he could find no relief from the previous dizzying warmth. "It's fine, it's fine," He hoarsely sighed, shaking his head as he stirred the thick liquid, "Don't think it's quite burned at the bottom, but um…it's still going to give me grief when I try to clean it later." Overheated and overwhelmed, Hylas swallowed as the ground swayed from under his feet. All the tension of the past few minutes had crashed down with the reality of the immediate problem, and since he had no time to transition between the two events, the thrill of their flirting clashed with the panic of the disaster around the corner. He had been so close. Close to seeing what Cas really meant. Whatever waited for him in the future had beckoned him forward. The gentle hands of fate had tugged at his waist, leading him closer to the green-eyed siren tempting him quietly, fiercely. Gods, those words; that mouth. Now, the spell was broken. Flushed cheeks and uneven breaths burned them inside and out, where only fear and disappointment steered their thoughts away from the impossible. All at once, the sounds and colours of the room were too much for him, and as a he moved away from the hearth, he walked into the corner of the table. In his confusion, he glanced up at Cas and then back to the pot of simmering soup. He tried his best to smile at his clumsiness, shrugging as if the whole situation was a laughable one. "Oh— um. You should probably…you can throw in the vegetables," He swallowed, quickly turning back to the kitchen and drunkenly searching for his abandoned cup of water. "It's fine. It's all fine. Nothing's ruined." Reminded again of their moment, he felt a new wave of nerves come alight. The sun was low in the sky, and with feverish hands, Hylas opened a small window.
Cas watched Hylas for a moment before he gently pushed the roots into the pot, hearing them sizzle and bubble away in the newfound silence between them. At least he wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed after their exchange and very obvious heated because of it, "Well, you cooked, I'll clean afterwards." That's how their last meals had gone, and Cas wasn't going to let a tough to clean pot stop him from helping out around here to repay the debt he fell the owed to Hylas, "If it didn't burn then it'll be fine, just have to keep an eye on it this time." It was clear that nothing else would happen, tonight at least, considering they were both hot and heavy and still reeling from the possibilities and the 'what ifs?' The gentle pink and orange glow casting over the room enveloped them both in the last of the evening sun, with the cool wind breezing through the window taking the edge off of the warm room. Cas kept his distance, staying near the pot of soup to make sure they didn't recreate their mistake from earlier. It was hard to stop thinking about it, about what Hylas might have said if given only a few more seconds, what was hiding behind that gods damned smirk. Would they ever get to find out how that conversation was going to end? He wanted to know, he needed to know, but considering it came to a sharp end, Cas knew that it wouldn't be anytime soon. But know that they both knew, or presumed, how they had felt in that moment, whether it had been banter or no, Cas wasn't going to let it affect how the rest of their time together played out. He made sure not to make a comment about it, about how he had walked into the table. No way was he the one going to make things awkward.
Hylas muttered some half-hearted protest at the prince's offer, resting on his forearms as he leaned out of the window. Outside, the wind was warm and forgiving. He could feel the heat of all his sins and blunders carried away in the damp sway of mountainous currents, pushing and pulling him towards forgiveness. Gods help me, Hylas prayed to himself, trying not to frown at the unfortunate state of his affairs. As he left the window, the cold shadows of the evening stuck to his mind like a cloudy nimbus of fear. Thoughts of failure as missed opportunities swelled in languid stretches of emotional strain. What would've happened if I'd spoken without hesitating? Even with the interruption, if Cas had heard the challenge at all, surely he would've returned to the warm spiral of their conversation. That is, if Cas wasn't truly joking when he suggested all those things. Hylas pushed the falling hair out of his face, trying to steady the storm of frustration and regret that throbbed in a dull ache. I'm not used to feeling this much. I feel ill, feverish. It felt like he'd been awake for days. Sleep sounded like such a holy place to fall into, but he knew that he couldn't let himself be seen as so frail in the eyes of the prince, especially after his defiant retorts. "I'll— I'll deal with the rabbit," He muttered, blinking hard and ignoring Cas as he returned to the kitchen. With sleeves rolled high, he cleaved the skinned game and cooked it high on the oiled pan, deliriously throwing traditional spices of Croucan at it in between long sips of water. By the time it was cooked, his head was clearer and his heartbeat untroubled. He made his way to Cas and the soup, meeting him with an apologetic smile before transferring the meat into the thick, glorious liquid. We can start over. We can always ignore and move on. "I don't think I've had enough water in these last few days," He almost whispered, "Too many distractions. You ought to drink some too."
Cas watched the soup as if it were going to run away from there if he took his gaze away, watching it bubble away, sizzling over the warm heat of the fire, vegetables turning in liquid. Without Hylas being in the room for a while, it gave the prince enough time to calm his thoughts and recenter himself. Whatever was left unspoken between them, now wasn't the time to bring it up again. Later, he ultimately decided. They could continue with their unspoken tension and obvious desperation to know where it would lead too, later. Dinner, right now, and making sure they didn't become distracted again, was more important than the mindless flirting and obvious suggestions. The fog that had taken over his head finally cleared enough to think once more. The feelings that had dragged themselves to the surface had finally sunk back into the depths of his stomach, leaving the quiet, swirly fluttering feeling that seemed to arise whenever Hylas smiled at him or spoke to him the right way in its wake. From the deafening silence that had settled between them, Cas couldn't tell whether Hylas did, or had ever, felt that way around him, too. Even he felt tired. Maybe it was because of how emotional the last few days had been, the heavy stress that weighed down on his shoulders every second now that he knew what was coming, and what he would have to do to stop it, or maybe it was because of Hylas and how he made him feel when they were so close together. It was probably both, but to ease some of the worries in Cas' mind about his beautiful companion, he chose to believe the former of the two possibilities. When Hylas returned, Cas returned his smile with one of his own, sighing through his nose gently, "I'll have some later," He couldn't remember the last time he had had any water. Right now he didn't care enough to get up and get a cup of his own, "With dinner. I promise."
"Alright." Hylas gently replied, looking down at the soup before smiling back at Cas. He liked hearing the prince promise home things. He'd never been the keeper of a vow or secret, and had never been the maker of one. The promise to drink water excited him, as simple as it was. It said 'I know you care about something, and I vow to honour it through my own actions.' It was a serious thing. As he went back to retrieve the last of the sweet dough, he tried not to think about the momentary tension of their fleeting talk. He would not think about how it felt to be looked at in that way. He would not think about how good it felt to match his low tone and flickering gaze. He would not think of the words that yelled to be remembered, because as much as he wanted to believe that by miracle the prince had wanted something, even for a moment, he knew it was wrong. Now that Osaire had loosened their grip on their weary souls, they were free to consider the events with logic. How likely was it that the prince was trying to catch him? If Cas was thinking clearly, would he consider the fact of his crimes? Only one thing out of all this had been made clear. Hylas wanted Caspian, and he had to find a way to stop it. Ignoring the realization, Hylas looked up at Cas, wanting to see his smile again. Kill me now. "Hey. Watch this," He said, unwrapping the sweet dough and dropping spoonfuls of it into the soup. At once, they started expanding, puffing up but hardly absorbing the thick, spiced broth as they swelled into soft rounds of instant dumplings.
Watching the sweet dough expand was impressive, turning into delicious, soft dumplings in an instant was a kind of magic in itself. It was enough of a distraction on his tired mind that Cas couldn't fight the soft smile that appeared seconds later, "Clever." He wondered where the dish was from and made a note to ask later for dinner time conversation. How many dishes and meals had Hylas picked up over his years of travelling? In between the work that he did, learning to cook all these simple, and yet full-flavoured, comforting foods. Truly a mystery. "How do they do that?" When it came to ordinary, mundane things, such as how the bread expanded, Cas could shamefully admit, he didn't know much. Time as a kid learning about such things, the normal things, was fleeting, and then it came crashing down with the last war, before all the time he had was spent on learning to run a kingdom. He'd often dreamt of days where he could explore interesting, places, cultures, without the politics coming into play. To experience life without the weight of thousands of people resting on his every move and word. Cas knew he was fortunate to live the life he had, and he had no right to complain nor wish for anything besides the luxury of grand palaces, never-ending food, and soft beds piled high with all the cushions in the world. But was it worth? The rest of his life after the oncoming war would be spent hauled up in a room with little visitors for days on end of planning for the welfare of Eirus, meetings upon meetings about trades and alliances, and visits to other kingdoms, not to explore the culture because he wanted to, but because politics demanded him to.
Hylas tilted his head to the side as he watched the dumplings fighting to bubble up to the surface. "It's because of the grain used to make the dough. It's a weed of sorts; hardly worth anything to anyone with real money. It doesn't grow in Eirus." The long grain of Valthea and Croucan grew rampant in farming regions, where the effortless crop needed no fertile earth and hardly any water to thrive in wild clusters of white stalks. Cheap, filling, and long-lasting, sweet dough was a staple in any poor Valthean's diet. "The plant thrives in warmth and rain, so naturally, the dry flour reacts the same. People have used it in cooking for hundreds of years. A round of dough keeps for a whole month." Soon, all the floating moons had cooked through, floating on the surface of the thick stew. "Mm, it's ready," Hylas said in hushed excitement, eagerly but thoughtlessly rolling up his sleeves as he snatched two empty bowls. The pot was full to the brim with the warm, sunset-coloured soup, where bulbous clouds bobbed in idle wait. So much food for only two of them. He hardly had the need or means to cook such a large stock, but when he did, he had taken to imagining a loud room of laughter and music, where bowls and plates of steaming food were passed around in excited exchanges. Hylas couldn't have moved faster as he ladled in the thick broth, the tender vegetables, the meat, and the sof dumplings into the wooden bowls. "Spoons!" He called with a smile, nodding over to the counter as he sat with their midday meal.
With a light chuckle, Cas was quick to retrieve their spoons, placing one in front of Hylas and keeping the other to himself as he sat across from the assassin, breathing deeply to appreciate how wonderful it smelt. It was hard not to devour it all right there, but Cas wasn't a brute, nor would he ever forget his manners, not in any situation, "Thank you, it smells delicious." He dug in quickly after that, near groaning at the taste. Simple, and yet effective. It seemed to be the theme with all these meals. Not that that was surprising to the prince, and it didn't stop him from enjoying all the food Hylas made. Through the silence that filled the air between them as they ate, only the sound of the cicadas and birds drifting through the open windows, Cas couldn't help but steal glances at the assassin from across the table. He tried not to stare, but when Hylas had his shirt rolled up like that it was hard not to. In between bites of soft bread dumplings and filling stew, Cas took the time to really look at Hylas. Those arms… what were those lines? At first glance, it looked to just be veins or bones, Hylas sure was skinny enough that that would make sense, but on closer inspection, the realization of what they actually were hit Cas like a tonne of bricks. Scars. Seeing them like that, it was hard to tear his gaze away, but he didn't want to be caught staring, however late that might have been for him to realize. Cas shouldn't have been so surprised at seeing the scars, he had his own to match, but the prince couldn't help the gut-wrenching feeling and the reminder of who Hylas was, and what he had endured over his lifetime.
Hylas tucked into his meal with a giddy focus, moving slow but wanting nothing but to eat as much as possible before anything or anyone could interrupt and take it away from him. Though he felt safe, fear and hunger always dictated his thoughts. The richness of the spices and the steady warmth of the stock overwhelmed him, steering all his sensory observations towards how wonderful it was so eat so well and share something. There was a small part of Hylas that felt nervous about eating around Cas, and just as he wandered into the idea of slowly accepting the reality of his unassuming company, he felt Cas' eyes on him, and not in the manner of the usual shy, fluttery glances that they traded. Hot shame was quick to cloak his cheeks as he caught the prince's gaze leaving the low focal point of his arms. Hylas swallowed, licking his lips as he looked away, as if something outside had softly called for his attention. Slow as can be, Hylas's arm retracted from the impolite cross at the table's edge, and he quietly rolled his sleeves down to hide the crooked scars; crossing over each other as their stories did. They were light and faded compared to the newer ones over his chest and the one leg, but knowing that Cas had seen them inspired a dull ache that snuffed out the warm sparks of respected companionship. From the sliver of green under the gentle press of a frown, Cas' stare burned him alive. The colourless fire pricked at his skin, biting with judgement and imagined disgust. The silent moment of shame lingered with Hylas' jaw clenched and his hands unmoving in his lap before he was met with a slow push of determination. If he wants to ask, let him ask. I won't apologize again. Carefully, Hylas hand returned to grip his spoon to finish his meal.
Cas didn't ask, nor did he open his mouth to even hint that he wanted to ask about the lingering ghost of wounds from battles fought and near-death experiences Hylas might have endured before their meeting. The silence that followed as they both ate was heavier than moments before, not the comfortable blanket that draped over them in usual meals, or after teasing conversations, but one that pushed down on both of them, it seemed, as they finished their food lost in their own thoughts. The prince kept his gaze on the table, the wood that was cracked beneath their bowls, and what was left of the now finished meal of delicious spices and new tastes. He'd never meant to make Hylas uncomfortable, but the way the assassin moved so slowly as if Cas would attack at any moment, was enough to make his heart sink gently in his chest. Curiosity, it seemed, wasn't doing him any favours. It was hard for the prince to push away the questions that rose whenever he learnt something new around Hylas or saw something that he shouldn't have. The bundle of mysteries sitting across from him got bigger the more Cas was around him, and the urge to ask was strong. Mentally, Cas scolded himself. He was better than that. Respect. The situation that had been thrust upon them both in the most basic of senses, was insanity, and the fact they had made it this far without another attempt on his life was a miracle in itself. But Cas wasn't going to forget what he stood for, and Hylas had earned his share of respect, as much as that was crazy to think about. I'm not dead. He's helping me. He deserves it. He would have thought himself insane in a normal situation, but this wasn't normal, and they would never be 'normal' again.
In the soft, wavering silence, the assassin heard his heartbeat whisper realizations in the river of blood racing through his veins. Dragging his gaze from the table had the drama and shrill resistance of paper being torn. Panicked black eyes met unblinking green. This quiet show of defiance likely meant nothing to Cas, but to a ghostly man of silence and isolation, speaking in the new language of eyes was a wonderful, terrifying experience. We've already said so much. And when we teased each other just a moment ago— whole sentences in a glance. He would not show cowardice over something as little as this. Hylas knew it wasn't little. And he knew he didn't really need to prove anything to Cas, or anybody for that matter. But the fact remained that he wanted to be seen as strong; honourable, and as good as he could manage, given his past. He wanted Cas to feel safe— comfortable, if that was even possible. He wanted his trust, and his respect, and his attention and— the sound of his laugh; the sight of his smile above all else. That smirk; that grin, and that shy curl of his mouth with the excited pinch of his forest eyes. His smile was golden enough to pay off his killer's bounty; his laugh— golden enough to replace the sun. In those rare moments of smile and laughter, Hylas had wondered if everyone smiled as beautifully up this close, or if being the sole witness and inspirer of that radiance was what made his face burn and his heart stutter. That doesn't matter, He thought with an imagined shake of his head, What matters is that he knows I'm not some cowardly ghost of a legend. The Raven doesn't avert his gaze. "Um…how was– is!…it?" He asked, struggling out of their shared trance of sympathetic focus, "The soup. Is it alright?…Do you like it?" It didn't matter if he liked it or not. They were far from the luxury of choice, but Hylas still hoped he could please him, if only by making him something enjoyable enough to eat. The assassin held his companion's gaze with a gentle strength, challenging the reality of their unsaid silence with his own request for Cas to ignore his past and think of the kindness— the soup —in their shared present.
