[He crosses his arms, but neither shuts Hector out nor conversation down. Instead, he's ready to toss out a scoffing half-joke in turn, surprised how easily he's slipping back into the rhythm of exchanging easy jabs, as though no one is hurting and everything is as fine as it'll ever be. But daring to give it serious consideration yet again, he still isn't sure what, if anything, could ever please him for the long term. Temporary satisfaction, on the other hand, is more attainable - in theory, anyway.]
A warm bed and a warm body.
[He says, to the fire. Nights of half-drunk debauchery, free to do and to be as he will. Fucking until boredom settles into his bones and he seeks something else or someone else, the next body to warm his and to dull the ache of being alive. Until he knows how to see and to let himself slide into open arms, he'll settle for open legs. Infinitely easier for all involved.]
Access to the latter whenever the mood should strike.
no subject
A warm bed and a warm body.
[He says, to the fire. Nights of half-drunk debauchery, free to do and to be as he will. Fucking until boredom settles into his bones and he seeks something else or someone else, the next body to warm his and to dull the ache of being alive. Until he knows how to see and to let himself slide into open arms, he'll settle for open legs. Infinitely easier for all involved.]
Access to the latter whenever the mood should strike.