[ It's an indignant parting shot, made as the other exits the room without another word, and for a moment Kaveh's pout only deepens, the architect strongly considering getting up from the tangle of the singular cover around him to try and follow Alhaitham out of the room— he knows the other said he should rest, but is he really going to just walk out without saying goodnight?
The intent really is there, to follow him out, but the body isn't willing; Kaveh ends up flopping face-first into the pillow with a groan, exhausted and drunk and now a little sulky on top of that.
And to be completely honest, despite his protest, there's certainly a more-than-probable chance of his memory failing him— it has before, after all. But at least right now he stubbornly believes— has convinced himself even— that it's impossible on account of the sheer magnitude of what has happened here, tonight, between them.
He rolls onto his side when Alhaitham returns to the room, and the smile on his lips is decidedly soft, at least until it's replaced with a scowl when the cover is dropped onto his face right as he's in the middle of reaching out for it, causing him instead to flail, nearly knock the thing off the nightstand, and curse the scribe under his breath— in actuality incredibly noisily— while he rearranges the covers until they're over him and not just his head. ]
You are such a jerk. [ But there's no venom in his voice at all, the smile returning again in the next second as he recovers the glass and drinks from it. ] Thanks.
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[ It's an indignant parting shot, made as the other exits the room without another word, and for a moment Kaveh's pout only deepens, the architect strongly considering getting up from the tangle of the singular cover around him to try and follow Alhaitham out of the room— he knows the other said he should rest, but is he really going to just walk out without saying goodnight?
The intent really is there, to follow him out, but the body isn't willing; Kaveh ends up flopping face-first into the pillow with a groan, exhausted and drunk and now a little sulky on top of that.
And to be completely honest, despite his protest, there's certainly a more-than-probable chance of his memory failing him— it has before, after all. But at least right now he stubbornly believes— has convinced himself even— that it's impossible on account of the sheer magnitude of what has happened here, tonight, between them.
He rolls onto his side when Alhaitham returns to the room, and the smile on his lips is decidedly soft, at least until it's replaced with a scowl when the cover is dropped onto his face right as he's in the middle of reaching out for it, causing him instead to flail, nearly knock the thing off the nightstand, and curse the scribe under his breath— in actuality incredibly noisily— while he rearranges the covers until they're over him and not just his head. ]
You are such a jerk. [ But there's no venom in his voice at all, the smile returning again in the next second as he recovers the glass and drinks from it. ] Thanks.