[ He doesn't really notice the way Kaeya looks at him, eyes only moving to follow Kaeya's hand as he reaches up. Flattens his hair back down, and Amos blinks as he looks back down at him. Huh.
He resists the temptation to run a hand through his hair again — not like it needs it, not like Kaeya didn't just rectify things there — keeping his hands at his sides to get a proper look at the shirt. And oh, wow. Yeah, that's definitely nicer than anything he's worn in his life. ]
Yeah, sure thing. [ He's skipping right over any reason why he might be enamoured with the shirt, the whole reason about him having never worn anything like that pushed to the back of his mind — growing up poor, growing up broken, so things like nice clothes just always seemed so trivial, they just would've gotten dirty or destroyed anyway — and is instead going right to stripping the shirt he'd been sleeping in, a plain black with a couple of small holes by the neck and one of the sleeves he really should get around to fixing one of these days. Amos pulls it over his heard, exposing the bare expanse of his stomach, chest, shard, and then it's off, lightly thrown over to the head of the bed, away from all of the nicer stuff occupying the rest of it.
He takes the new shirt, starting to shrug it on and — shit, has he ever worn anything with buttons before? Kind of a weird realization to come to. ]
But yeah, you could say I've been overworking myself. Just revived a couple of days ago, but it still feels like I got run over by something. Everything's still kinda sore. [ He's looking down as he starts doing up the buttons, one by one. Just making casual conversation. ] Doesn't feel as bad as it did yesterday, so I figure I should be good to go in a couple more days.
[ It's like he's just getting over a cold, is all. Amos does up the last button, stretches his arms out. Huh. Feels a little loose, but maybe it's supposed to? He angles his body to get a better look in the nearby mirror, atop his dresser. ]
no subject
He resists the temptation to run a hand through his hair again — not like it needs it, not like Kaeya didn't just rectify things there — keeping his hands at his sides to get a proper look at the shirt. And oh, wow. Yeah, that's definitely nicer than anything he's worn in his life. ]
Yeah, sure thing. [ He's skipping right over any reason why he might be enamoured with the shirt, the whole reason about him having never worn anything like that pushed to the back of his mind — growing up poor, growing up broken, so things like nice clothes just always seemed so trivial, they just would've gotten dirty or destroyed anyway — and is instead going right to stripping the shirt he'd been sleeping in, a plain black with a couple of small holes by the neck and one of the sleeves he really should get around to fixing one of these days. Amos pulls it over his heard, exposing the bare expanse of his stomach, chest, shard, and then it's off, lightly thrown over to the head of the bed, away from all of the nicer stuff occupying the rest of it.
He takes the new shirt, starting to shrug it on and — shit, has he ever worn anything with buttons before? Kind of a weird realization to come to. ]
But yeah, you could say I've been overworking myself. Just revived a couple of days ago, but it still feels like I got run over by something. Everything's still kinda sore. [ He's looking down as he starts doing up the buttons, one by one. Just making casual conversation. ] Doesn't feel as bad as it did yesterday, so I figure I should be good to go in a couple more days.
[ It's like he's just getting over a cold, is all. Amos does up the last button, stretches his arms out. Huh. Feels a little loose, but maybe it's supposed to? He angles his body to get a better look in the nearby mirror, atop his dresser. ]
How's it look?