Loxley's fingers curl into hers when she laces them together. Skin no warmer or colder or anything-er than it was before his little demonstration.
His expression flickers a little, but isn't some confession kept suppressed, but a hint of surprise. Like afraid hits strangely. Rather than an easy of course not, because clearly he is afraid of nothing, Loxley quiets and thinks, pulling apart the threads of his own conflicted feelings on this topic, inspecting them with care, before he says,
"At first," seems fair. "But even if I don't know where it comes from, it's never acted beyond my control. It feels like mine, either way."
His eyeline had vagued, somewhere in there, but sharpens now, studies Derrica across from him. He starts to say something, then seems to think again, and says, "You like your magic."
no subject
His expression flickers a little, but isn't some confession kept suppressed, but a hint of surprise. Like afraid hits strangely. Rather than an easy of course not, because clearly he is afraid of nothing, Loxley quiets and thinks, pulling apart the threads of his own conflicted feelings on this topic, inspecting them with care, before he says,
"At first," seems fair. "But even if I don't know where it comes from, it's never acted beyond my control. It feels like mine, either way."
His eyeline had vagued, somewhere in there, but sharpens now, studies Derrica across from him. He starts to say something, then seems to think again, and says, "You like your magic."