[Shaw makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat and slouches further in her chair, her eyes rolling up to study the ceiling. He won't make it weird, and as annoying as Root is being about the idea, it's not a bad idea. It's not necessarily something she would have proposed herself, but she can't deny that it's interesting. No, more than interesting - intriguing.
She licks her lips, then drops her gaze back down to the two of them.]
[ Root loves being annoying about good ideas. She realizes it makes her somewhat insufferable, but hey, that's part of the fun. As for whether it will mean something -- she's truthfully open to it either way. Root is an anarchist at heart, and she doesn't particularly care about labels. Carver can be a good time, and a team mate, and important-but-not-as-important as Shaw. Many things can be true at once. ]
Great, glad we established that, [ she says, still a bit impatient. She often feels like she's waiting for everyone else to catch up with her, and now's no different.
To Carver: ] To answer your earlier implied question, I don't mind if Shaw sleeps with whoever she wants, but sometimes her taste is... [ a delicate pause ] unfortunate. You, I like.
[ He tilts his head toward Shaw, assessing, then to Root. Wondering if this is all a grand joke they're having at his expense and whether he wants to be a good sport about it. There's nothing he gains from snapping at them, Carver supposes. He likes their company, both of them. They make sense and that's a precious thing in this world, easily lost, easily broken. ]
So. [ His tone is bland. He lifts his eyebrows in Root's direction. ] You wanna watch?
[ This is a joke if they laugh. Perhaps something more if they don't. He's deciding as they go. ]
[Shaw had been about to retort that her taste is great, actually, thank you very much; she has slept with some impeccable specimens. But then Carver asks his question, and squabbling with Root takes a backseat to sorting through the mental images that this suggestion has drummed up. She's not laughing. She is definitely not laughing. Give her a second.]
Hush, sweetie, we already know where you stand in this conversation.
[ She loves Shaw for many reasons, but really, there's just not a lot of people who would put up with Root's vaguely condescending and dismissive way of flirting. And she trusts Shaw loves her in whatever capacity she does, because frankly, who else would go to all this trouble to make the sexual scenario of her dreams? Root is such a considerate girlfriend. She knows what Shaw probably wants out of this and she's the one doing the negotiation.
Root smirks at Carver, stretching her legs out and leaning back leisurely in her chair. She sips her whiskey. ]
I won't even heckle, [ she says by way of answer, tone earnest. ] Might give some pointers, though, if you're open to it. I know how to read my girl.
[ Root, as she often does, seems perfectly content to arrange things. She’s got a tendency sometimes to say things seemingly to gauge the reactions or possibly just for the fun of it, a habit Carver shares and thus finds amusing when it’s aimed elsewhere. It makes things slightly more complicated in moments like this.
Even so, this doesn’t feel like a joke. Just a conversation they’re having.
He hums a little, considering them both. ]
It’s been a while, for me.
[ He’s not in any particular mood to explain why. But it ought to be said before this turns into something. ]
[Shaw punctuates this with a point in Root's direction, an exasperated look plastering itself across her face.]
No... sex commentary allowed, from anyone. Actually, you know what, never mind; I'm pulling out of this half-baked idea.
[This is absolutely not a serious threat. If it were, she'd leave the room. But instead, she stays put, and nothing about her body language or facial expression indicates anything but the most mild level of annoyance. Can you put up with their push-and-pull banter, Carver? Because that might actually be a prerequesite.]
[ That's practically a dare. Root pouts at her exaggeratedly, though of course on Root it's quite a believable expression until you know better. ]
I said I wouldn't heckle. You sure you're not interested? We can test that.
[ She places her glass of whiskey down, pushes her chair back, and climbs to her feet. She walks around the table not toward Shaw but toward Carver, expression open and mildly challenging, with a wicked edge like she's inviting him to pull a prank with her. ]
May I?
[ She's looking for a kiss, but is respectful enough to stop a foot away, not touching without permission. Root leans her hip against the table, facing him sideways. ]
[ This is the part, Carver supposes, where he ought to tap out if he’s going to tap out. They’re teasing the way he’d tease his brothers and sisters back when they were all playing infantry games, a familiar back and forth. If he’s going to flinch, best to do it now. They might tease but he doubts they’d push if he said no.
He watches Root move closer. Bright eyed and focused, as she always is. He takes in her expression, the jut of her hip, the way Shaw sasses back at her but doesn’t shut it down. Thinks, why not?
Really, why not?
He takes another drink, then sets his glass down with a definitive click and motions her closer with a jerk of his chin. ]
[Shaw has never considered herself to be interested in voyeurism. She's been in situations where someone made out with another person in front of her, with the aim of either titallating her or making her jealous or both; in every single one of those situations, it only ever bored her, annoyed her, or made her feel nothing at all.
This is different. Maybe it's because of who's involved, or maybe it's down to the intentions (Root clearly isn't trying to make her jealous, but Shaw also gets the feeling that turning her on isn't the only goal, either). She sits up straighter and scoots forward an inch or two on her chair, leaning in just a little. Continue, please.]
[ She's not trying to make her jealous in the traditional sense. More like she's relying on Shaw's sense of FOMO to kick in and get annoyed that she's being left out of the fun.
Carver's such a good sport, too, which gives him points in Root's book. She hadn't been totally sure how he'd take this -- the conversation itself or this direct request -- but so far she likes how easy it is, that he promised not to make it a big deal and then doesn't.
Permission granted, Root doesn't hesitate. She deliberately places one knee on the seat of the chair between Carver's legs, her hands settle on his shoulders, and she leans down and in. Root isn't deliberately commanding, but her unhesitating decisiveness almost demands everyone else come along with her or be swept away in her wake. You're either along for the ride or she's leaving you behind.
Their lips meet, hers supple from colored lip balm, and Root doesn't rush. She arches over him in what should be an awkward pose but instead comes across as coaxing, patient, a little teasing, fingers curling over his shoulders. How much does he want? She's good at reading physical signals. ]
[ This is uncharted territory for Carver, the sort of game he never played even before the world ended and certainly never this close to sober. In those days he’d either been with Riley or still in love with Riley after that door slammed shut and made him the kind of lonely that hung out in dive bars for a fight or somebody to yank him into the back alley; either way, the only kind of collision he could stand. He fears, quietly, that he’s got no talent for this sort of thing anymore. That he’ll only ever be a wound to other people and the least courtesy he can do to the ones in his orbit is not to infect them with his bullshit.
The thought is there. So are others, chief among them that he likes Root’s smile and the way she walks with her feet firmly planted in front of her, how every step is certain and she means to hold her ground against all challengers. And then her hands are on his shoulders, small but strong, and she kisses him almost gently. Not the way he’d expected, or maybe been braced for. Not with teeth.
Funny, that.
He’s still for a moment, considering that, and then his hands settle on her hips, squeezing faintly. It doesn’t feel awkward, not like he’d thought it would. He kisses her back because he can, because it feels good, and so little does these days. Well aware that Shaw’s watching and this both is and isn’t a game, so they might as well give it a good showing. ]
[Shaw wants to kiss him with teeth. Even more than that, she wants him to kiss her with teeth; she wants him to leave bruises on her skin with his mouth and his fingertips. She wants to run her hands over his chest, the way she sometimes imagines doing when she spars with him or watches him train with his whip - and the way that, she can't help but notice, Root is not doing. Yeah, sure, his shoulders are nice too, but not giving his chest even a little bit of attention is a damn tragedy. What a wasted opportunity.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat - impatience, discontent, and okay, yes, a tinge of interest too - and paces closer, approaching from the side and circling them like a panther. Once she's gone about three-quarters of the way around, facing Root's back and Carver's front, she worms her way in a little more, bumping Carver's knee with hers and digging an elbow into Root's side. Move it. Let her in.]
[ Carver is also much sweeter than she's expecting, in a way that makes Root a little tender. Awww. Tough macho guy who could put her on the ground in a split second, and he likes her being sweet with him? That's definitely appealing in a way men usually aren't.
She feels Shaw ungracefully elbowing her and breaks off the kiss with an exhalation of laughter. ]
Don't look now, [ she murmurs, purposefully ignoring Shaw as she maintains eye contact with Carver and smirks. ] Sameen thinks I'm not kissing you right.
[ That's easy enough to tell in the impatience, and Root's assumption that Shaw is not out there looking for fuck buddies to have tender merciful sex with. ]
She wants to mark you up, [ Root whispers like it's a secret. ]
[ He can feel Shaw's movement like a physical weight settling over the room, even though she's quiet with how she places her feet. Deliberate about it. A good soldier, he thinks, even with Root pressing close and distracting him. He grins as Root breaks and Shaw comes in, her knee pressed against his. In a different moment it'd feel crowding, he thinks, uneasy, but it doesn't here.
Funny, that.
He squeezes Root's hips again, one eyebrow cocked. ] Not where people can see, [ is all he says. He doesn't mind carrying bruises. It's a reminder of the real.
Then he reaches out a hand, risking it, and touches Shaw's elbow. Tugging her closer. ]
[Stop reading her for filth, Root; it's annoying. She very deliberately gives Root her back, but in a way that's only meant to be a caricature of a rebuff; she'll play at ignoring her to make a point, but only because she trusts that Root won't actually feel rejected.
And maybe also because experience tells her that Root can do some very interesting things with her back, when she has the opportunity.
Carver, on the other hand, gets her full front as she lets him reel her in with that brief touch. Running her fingers lightly over the collar of his shirt, she wonders out loud:]
[ Root does not feel rejected. Root feels the self-satisfied amusement of someone whose ploy has worked perfectly, and now she gets to reap the rewards.
She steps back to let them have their first encounter without her muddling things up too much, wants to let them have a chance to find their physical dynamic on their own. Although she's more than happy to direct things or harass either of them, she does actually want them to enjoy themselves, which means she needs to pay attention first. Sex isn't something she does just to pass the time, despite what she'd said earlier -- and it isn't something she approaches lightly.
That doesn't mean Root is investing emotion into it, it means she's investing skill. Why do something if you're not going to do it well?
For now she presses up close against Shaw from behind and slides the fingers of one hand beneath her shirt at her hip, fingertips burrowing into skin over the iliac crest. ]
[ And now Shaw’s in front of him, all coiled strength and dark hair, her eyes watchful and focused. He’s always liked that about her, Carver thinks, but he never let it drift further than that. Sometimes he let his gaze linger for a moment but never any longer. Professionalism matters. Those lines, drawn ever so carefully in the metaphorical sand, matter. You have to know what you are. What your role demands and denies in turn.
But it’s been a long time since he’s let himself touch anyone like this, longer than he’d care to admit even if asked, and it feels good to reach for Shaw in turn. To know that Root’s gaze is on both of them now too, catlike and satisfied. He hadn’t realized he’d like that.
He watches Root’s hands on Shaw, holding her close, and thinks, all right. He hums and leans in to kiss Shaw briefly, testing the waters more than not, and then he leans back to shrug out of his jacket and then his shirt. Letting both fall. ]
[Maybe he's aiming for a brief kiss. When he starts to pull back, Shaw chases after him, stealing a few more kisses as he works his way out of his jacket and shirt. She's not particularly soft or gentle about it - her fingertips press into his skin, her mouth is hot and insistent against his - but she goes slow, savoring the experience. And once his chest is bare, she presses her palms flat against it, giving him a little push to tilt him back.
[ Root has never seen a line she didn't want to joyously, callously smudge into oblivion. Why do people keep limiting themselves? They only live once, and they're putting boundaries on it. It's a waste of time.
Being dead, Root can't stand to waste time, now more than ever. ]
Uh-uh, [ she whispers. ] Whatever you do to him, I'm going to do to you.
[ Maybe not in a perfect symmetry, but close enough. Root starts pushing her hands up, aiming to peel Shaw's shirt off of her, toss it to the side carelessly and set her teeth at her neck in tantalizing warning and promise. The tall line of her body curves over her like a vulture waiting for a chance.
[ Okay, then. Carver hesitates a moment, wary, but he liked kissing back in the day and he thinks he might still like it now. There are stakes here, but they aren't so high. You have to think of unit cohesion, how the group fits together and in what configurations. Jealousy's a poison best bled out early. But in the end, he doesn't think these two care about that. Their focus lies elsewhere.
This can just be a collusion. Momentary, pleasant, nothing much deeper. But Root's moving again, biting at Shaw's neck. It makes a nice picture. He presses into Shaw's hands, humming a little. Getting used to the sensation again. He used to like this part, too. A long time ago. And there's no reason not to try again, is there?
His hands find Shaw's hips, dragging up to cup her breasts. Why not, right? They can just be people for a little while. They can be bodies, all three of them. ]
[Root's whispered little promise pulls a moan out of Shaw, equal to the one that Carver elicits when he palms her chest (and this particular symmetry she likes, thank you very much). In other circumstances, with other people, it might have been embarrassing - but she knows that Carver is probably too busy reading too much into his own actions to give her shit for hers, she's long since moved past the point of embarrassment with Root. As long as she doesn't get too unbearably smug about how easily she can get Shaw to roll over for her, it's all good.
Someone less good at multitasking might put all her attention into doing to Carver what she wants done to her - or, alternately, would lose track of Root's intentions and focus solely on the man under her hands. Shaw doesn't have that problem. She leans her back into Root, but cranes her neck up, not breaking the liplock with Carver. She hooks a hand around his neck, holding him in place firmly enough to convey intentionality, but not so firmly that he couldn't easily break away if he chose to. Her shirt's off, his shirt's off-- and her other hand slooooowly trails its way down his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the waistline of his pants. Just thinking ahead.]
[ Jealousy is the furthest thing from her mind -- if anything, she's thinking the opposite, about how to make sure this goes well. It's so easy for others to miss that Shaw doesn't actually want to be in charge all the time, and Root assumes most of her prior lovers have required training or otherwise been profoundly unsatisfying.
They haven't talked about it explicitly, but Root puts a tremendous amount of thought and energy into understanding Shaw, and she has a natural facility for human connection besides. She usually finds people tedious, but she wouldn't be such a good manipulator and identity chameleon if she didn't have a base aptitude for them. So although they've had sex comparatively few times, Root is confident she has an accurate read on Shaw's sexual tastes. Therefore, she's being quite deliberate in making sure Carver notices how Shaw likes things. He said it had been a while for him and he was open to direction; Shaw is amusingly bad at communicating; Root sees a perfect place to step in.
Mirroring what she's doing exactly would make for awkward body mechanics, which just gives Root an excuse to remove her mouth from Shaw's neck and replace it with a hand, arm wrapping around her and palm settling over her throat. She gives only a subtle squeeze, meant to tease and not take over the scene.
Her other hand slides down to tease lower, fingers slipping past waistline just as hers search out Carver's. ]
[ Okay, Carver thinks, smiling at that noise Shaw makes. He likes the way she cups his skull with her hand, holding him there. Not pinning, but directing him. And it's easy to follow; he's good at that. Easy, too, to watch how Root moves. To take note of how she and Root fit together, the ways they bend. The hand Root puts around Shaw's throat like a promise.
His stomach tightens but he squeezes Shaw's breasts again, figuring out what pressure she likes. Maybe she likes to be contained the same way he does, sometimes. There'd be symmetry in that.
He doesn't flinch at Root's hand. Just lifts his hip and undoes his belt to help her, because that's easy. ]
Don't touch my scars, [ he murmurs, because he knows they're ugly - that dappling of keloid tissue over his hip, the knife and gunshot scarring on his back. He can still feel things there, just muted. He leans forward and sucks a mark into Shaw's throat, just because. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She licks her lips, then drops her gaze back down to the two of them.]
I wouldn't make it weird, either.
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Great, glad we established that, [ she says, still a bit impatient. She often feels like she's waiting for everyone else to catch up with her, and now's no different.
To Carver: ] To answer your earlier implied question, I don't mind if Shaw sleeps with whoever she wants, but sometimes her taste is... [ a delicate pause ] unfortunate. You, I like.
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[ He tilts his head toward Shaw, assessing, then to Root. Wondering if this is all a grand joke they're having at his expense and whether he wants to be a good sport about it. There's nothing he gains from snapping at them, Carver supposes. He likes their company, both of them. They make sense and that's a precious thing in this world, easily lost, easily broken. ]
So. [ His tone is bland. He lifts his eyebrows in Root's direction. ] You wanna watch?
[ This is a joke if they laugh. Perhaps something more if they don't. He's deciding as they go. ]
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-- Wouldn't be opposed.
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[ She loves Shaw for many reasons, but really, there's just not a lot of people who would put up with Root's vaguely condescending and dismissive way of flirting. And she trusts Shaw loves her in whatever capacity she does, because frankly, who else would go to all this trouble to make the sexual scenario of her dreams? Root is such a considerate girlfriend. She knows what Shaw probably wants out of this and she's the one doing the negotiation.
Root smirks at Carver, stretching her legs out and leaning back leisurely in her chair. She sips her whiskey. ]
I won't even heckle, [ she says by way of answer, tone earnest. ] Might give some pointers, though, if you're open to it. I know how to read my girl.
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Even so, this doesn’t feel like a joke. Just a conversation they’re having.
He hums a little, considering them both. ]
It’s been a while, for me.
[ He’s not in any particular mood to explain why. But it ought to be said before this turns into something. ]
Direct all you want.
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[Shaw punctuates this with a point in Root's direction, an exasperated look plastering itself across her face.]
No... sex commentary allowed, from anyone. Actually, you know what, never mind; I'm pulling out of this half-baked idea.
[This is absolutely not a serious threat. If it were, she'd leave the room. But instead, she stays put, and nothing about her body language or facial expression indicates anything but the most mild level of annoyance. Can you put up with their push-and-pull banter, Carver? Because that might actually be a prerequesite.]
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I said I wouldn't heckle. You sure you're not interested? We can test that.
[ She places her glass of whiskey down, pushes her chair back, and climbs to her feet. She walks around the table not toward Shaw but toward Carver, expression open and mildly challenging, with a wicked edge like she's inviting him to pull a prank with her. ]
May I?
[ She's looking for a kiss, but is respectful enough to stop a foot away, not touching without permission. Root leans her hip against the table, facing him sideways. ]
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He watches Root move closer. Bright eyed and focused, as she always is. He takes in her expression, the jut of her hip, the way Shaw sasses back at her but doesn’t shut it down. Thinks, why not?
Really, why not?
He takes another drink, then sets his glass down with a definitive click and motions her closer with a jerk of his chin. ]
Might as well, [ he drawls. ]
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This is different. Maybe it's because of who's involved, or maybe it's down to the intentions (Root clearly isn't trying to make her jealous, but Shaw also gets the feeling that turning her on isn't the only goal, either). She sits up straighter and scoots forward an inch or two on her chair, leaning in just a little. Continue, please.]
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Carver's such a good sport, too, which gives him points in Root's book. She hadn't been totally sure how he'd take this -- the conversation itself or this direct request -- but so far she likes how easy it is, that he promised not to make it a big deal and then doesn't.
Permission granted, Root doesn't hesitate. She deliberately places one knee on the seat of the chair between Carver's legs, her hands settle on his shoulders, and she leans down and in. Root isn't deliberately commanding, but her unhesitating decisiveness almost demands everyone else come along with her or be swept away in her wake. You're either along for the ride or she's leaving you behind.
Their lips meet, hers supple from colored lip balm, and Root doesn't rush. She arches over him in what should be an awkward pose but instead comes across as coaxing, patient, a little teasing, fingers curling over his shoulders. How much does he want? She's good at reading physical signals. ]
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The thought is there. So are others, chief among them that he likes Root’s smile and the way she walks with her feet firmly planted in front of her, how every step is certain and she means to hold her ground against all challengers. And then her hands are on his shoulders, small but strong, and she kisses him almost gently. Not the way he’d expected, or maybe been braced for. Not with teeth.
Funny, that.
He’s still for a moment, considering that, and then his hands settle on her hips, squeezing faintly. It doesn’t feel awkward, not like he’d thought it would. He kisses her back because he can, because it feels good, and so little does these days. Well aware that Shaw’s watching and this both is and isn’t a game, so they might as well give it a good showing. ]
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She makes a small sound in the back of her throat - impatience, discontent, and okay, yes, a tinge of interest too - and paces closer, approaching from the side and circling them like a panther. Once she's gone about three-quarters of the way around, facing Root's back and Carver's front, she worms her way in a little more, bumping Carver's knee with hers and digging an elbow into Root's side. Move it. Let her in.]
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She feels Shaw ungracefully elbowing her and breaks off the kiss with an exhalation of laughter. ]
Don't look now, [ she murmurs, purposefully ignoring Shaw as she maintains eye contact with Carver and smirks. ] Sameen thinks I'm not kissing you right.
[ That's easy enough to tell in the impatience, and Root's assumption that Shaw is not out there looking for fuck buddies to have tender merciful sex with. ]
She wants to mark you up, [ Root whispers like it's a secret. ]
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Funny, that.
He squeezes Root's hips again, one eyebrow cocked. ] Not where people can see, [ is all he says. He doesn't mind carrying bruises. It's a reminder of the real.
Then he reaches out a hand, risking it, and touches Shaw's elbow. Tugging her closer. ]
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And maybe also because experience tells her that Root can do some very interesting things with her back, when she has the opportunity.
Carver, on the other hand, gets her full front as she lets him reel her in with that brief touch. Running her fingers lightly over the collar of his shirt, she wonders out loud:]
Why are you still wearing this?
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She steps back to let them have their first encounter without her muddling things up too much, wants to let them have a chance to find their physical dynamic on their own. Although she's more than happy to direct things or harass either of them, she does actually want them to enjoy themselves, which means she needs to pay attention first. Sex isn't something she does just to pass the time, despite what she'd said earlier -- and it isn't something she approaches lightly.
That doesn't mean Root is investing emotion into it, it means she's investing skill. Why do something if you're not going to do it well?
For now she presses up close against Shaw from behind and slides the fingers of one hand beneath her shirt at her hip, fingertips burrowing into skin over the iliac crest. ]
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But it’s been a long time since he’s let himself touch anyone like this, longer than he’d care to admit even if asked, and it feels good to reach for Shaw in turn. To know that Root’s gaze is on both of them now too, catlike and satisfied. He hadn’t realized he’d like that.
He watches Root’s hands on Shaw, holding her close, and thinks, all right. He hums and leans in to kiss Shaw briefly, testing the waters more than not, and then he leans back to shrug out of his jacket and then his shirt. Letting both fall. ]
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If he goes, she'll come along for the ride.]
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Being dead, Root can't stand to waste time, now more than ever. ]
Uh-uh, [ she whispers. ] Whatever you do to him, I'm going to do to you.
[ Maybe not in a perfect symmetry, but close enough. Root starts pushing her hands up, aiming to peel Shaw's shirt off of her, toss it to the side carelessly and set her teeth at her neck in tantalizing warning and promise. The tall line of her body curves over her like a vulture waiting for a chance.
Perfect symmetry is boring, after all. ]
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This can just be a collusion. Momentary, pleasant, nothing much deeper. But Root's moving again, biting at Shaw's neck. It makes a nice picture. He presses into Shaw's hands, humming a little. Getting used to the sensation again. He used to like this part, too. A long time ago. And there's no reason not to try again, is there?
His hands find Shaw's hips, dragging up to cup her breasts. Why not, right? They can just be people for a little while. They can be bodies, all three of them. ]
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Someone less good at multitasking might put all her attention into doing to Carver what she wants done to her - or, alternately, would lose track of Root's intentions and focus solely on the man under her hands. Shaw doesn't have that problem. She leans her back into Root, but cranes her neck up, not breaking the liplock with Carver. She hooks a hand around his neck, holding him in place firmly enough to convey intentionality, but not so firmly that he couldn't easily break away if he chose to. Her shirt's off, his shirt's off-- and her other hand slooooowly trails its way down his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the waistline of his pants. Just thinking ahead.]
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They haven't talked about it explicitly, but Root puts a tremendous amount of thought and energy into understanding Shaw, and she has a natural facility for human connection besides. She usually finds people tedious, but she wouldn't be such a good manipulator and identity chameleon if she didn't have a base aptitude for them. So although they've had sex comparatively few times, Root is confident she has an accurate read on Shaw's sexual tastes. Therefore, she's being quite deliberate in making sure Carver notices how Shaw likes things. He said it had been a while for him and he was open to direction; Shaw is amusingly bad at communicating; Root sees a perfect place to step in.
Mirroring what she's doing exactly would make for awkward body mechanics, which just gives Root an excuse to remove her mouth from Shaw's neck and replace it with a hand, arm wrapping around her and palm settling over her throat. She gives only a subtle squeeze, meant to tease and not take over the scene.
Her other hand slides down to tease lower, fingers slipping past waistline just as hers search out Carver's. ]
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His stomach tightens but he squeezes Shaw's breasts again, figuring out what pressure she likes. Maybe she likes to be contained the same way he does, sometimes. There'd be symmetry in that.
He doesn't flinch at Root's hand. Just lifts his hip and undoes his belt to help her, because that's easy. ]
Don't touch my scars, [ he murmurs, because he knows they're ugly - that dappling of keloid tissue over his hip, the knife and gunshot scarring on his back. He can still feel things there, just muted. He leans forward and sucks a mark into Shaw's throat, just because. ]