Being Gallows-side doesn't mean he'll be there the whole time. Already, Loxley can't help but think out a little bit of personal strategy, not wishing to be seen as constantly around, but it seems prudent to at least be one hand in a more permanent way than his normal dipping in and out. Perhaps it'll be he, sparing Gwenaëlle some boredom.
"I did have the thought, though," he adds, "about such a living arrangement. If she's to be there a week or so, you know. I could impose on Richard, or," his fingers splay at her waist, settle, "if it wouldn't be stressful, my being in your hair, I could stay with you."
And he stops himself from adding in reflexive qualification, about the ways in which she might turn him down, if she wished.
Derrica doesn't need him to remind her. Loxley has been accomodating; she doesn't doubt that it would sting to be turned down, but she knows he would understand. Give her space, should she need it.
She is quiet for a stretch, as they descend along the street. (Recalls the scramble of taking the ferry in the pre-dawn hours, running this route with her hair coming loose, face still streaked with tears from the loss of Holden. He has been on her mind today, inescapable and deeply missed.) His hand feels good at her waist, and the ease of their conversation diminishes the need to take all the day's frustration and scream until she couldn't.
"I would like that," she says first, before questioning, "But would it be better if you imposed on Richard? Would your company be good for him?"
In that stretch of quiet, Loxley starts plotting what he'll say in the event of her turning down his offer. Something breezy, obviously, having no desire to burden her with a sense of his disappointment. The Gallows has a great many empty rooms, anyway. He might feel moved to pivot to asking if she'd like it more generally, you know, not a permanent sort of situation, but maybe days at a time—
But there, not quite.
"Inevitably," he says, instantly. His company is good for anyone. "Perhaps I could dabble in a little of both."
Which may not be her business, really. But Loxley cares for Richard, and Derrica respects him, wants him to find some measure of happiness here. She has some idea of what he lost, when Madame Fitcher fled. She had done so much damage, and Richard hadn't been exempt from it.
"I would like it though," she reassures, "if you were there when I finished my work and saw the woman they're sending to her room."
She can halve her time with Richard. Or accept whatever division of nights Loxley saw fit to allot her, really. (It is easier to think of the irregularity of the days, rather than some more permanent routine.)
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charmoffensive) wrote2019-10-19 02:48 pm
no subject
Being Gallows-side doesn't mean he'll be there the whole time. Already, Loxley can't help but think out a little bit of personal strategy, not wishing to be seen as constantly around, but it seems prudent to at least be one hand in a more permanent way than his normal dipping in and out. Perhaps it'll be he, sparing Gwenaëlle some boredom.
"I did have the thought, though," he adds, "about such a living arrangement. If she's to be there a week or so, you know. I could impose on Richard, or," his fingers splay at her waist, settle, "if it wouldn't be stressful, my being in your hair, I could stay with you."
And he stops himself from adding in reflexive qualification, about the ways in which she might turn him down, if she wished.
no subject
Derrica doesn't need him to remind her. Loxley has been accomodating; she doesn't doubt that it would sting to be turned down, but she knows he would understand. Give her space, should she need it.
She is quiet for a stretch, as they descend along the street. (Recalls the scramble of taking the ferry in the pre-dawn hours, running this route with her hair coming loose, face still streaked with tears from the loss of Holden. He has been on her mind today, inescapable and deeply missed.) His hand feels good at her waist, and the ease of their conversation diminishes the need to take all the day's frustration and scream until she couldn't.
"I would like that," she says first, before questioning, "But would it be better if you imposed on Richard? Would your company be good for him?"
no subject
But there, not quite.
"Inevitably," he says, instantly. His company is good for anyone. "Perhaps I could dabble in a little of both."
no subject
Which may not be her business, really. But Loxley cares for Richard, and Derrica respects him, wants him to find some measure of happiness here. She has some idea of what he lost, when Madame Fitcher fled. She had done so much damage, and Richard hadn't been exempt from it.
"I would like it though," she reassures, "if you were there when I finished my work and saw the woman they're sending to her room."
She can halve her time with Richard. Or accept whatever division of nights Loxley saw fit to allot her, really. (It is easier to think of the irregularity of the days, rather than some more permanent routine.)