[ wash is careful to give pietro choices. opportunities. chances for him to figure out what he wants and for him to show that he's ready for what he's asking for. he's dealt with worse, in terms of terribly stubborn insufferable men ( he's drawn to them for better and for worse ), and pietro's defiance is something he can entirely work with, even thrive with. he's entirely ready for pietro to decide to run out from him, to have bolted and left him in the alleyway. but instead, pietro follows, and not just that. he answers. its quiet, almost unnaturally even, almost like pietro doesn't quite know what he's saying, but it's an answer.
that's more than what wash was expecting. he can work with that. and while he won't say that out loud, he'll reward pietro for this sliver of cooperation, as much as he can. ]
Alright.
[ simple acknowledgement, no judgment, no teasing. for a man built on movement, needing to move makes sense. this is the first line pietro is choosing to draw, and that gives wash a few ways to go: it tells him that this is a limit he cares about more than pain or anything else, that when its needed he can offer him a moment of solace by letting him move a little more. it tells him about where he can redirect his efforts, where it would be better to focus on. it tells him that if he does want to emphasize something, that binding him might affect him more than it does other people.
and for some people, wash would treat that line as solid, immovable, immutable. but for someone like pietro. it tells him, too, that if he ever does want to truly break him, it almost definitely would be here, driving him to the point where he'd entrust himself into his care, completely bound and motionless. a thing to note for the future. perhaps to push towards someday.
most importantly for now, it tells him that pietro wants this. that he listened, heard him, and however reluctantly, is trying to meet him at a halfway point, knowing that he needs to do it to get what he wants.
wash has lived here for almost two years, now, and staff in the lobby acknowledge him and pietro both, watching pietro with more curiosity as wash moves to the elevator. ]
Eighth, if you want the stairs.
[ another choice, and a simple one. the elevator doors slide open, and wash watches him for a moment, his gaze clearly lingering over pietro's body, to small trickle of blood from his chin down over the curve of his bruised throat. the knife spins again between his fingers, and he turns to moves inside. ]
no subject
that's more than what wash was expecting. he can work with that. and while he won't say that out loud, he'll reward pietro for this sliver of cooperation, as much as he can. ]
Alright.
[ simple acknowledgement, no judgment, no teasing. for a man built on movement, needing to move makes sense. this is the first line pietro is choosing to draw, and that gives wash a few ways to go: it tells him that this is a limit he cares about more than pain or anything else, that when its needed he can offer him a moment of solace by letting him move a little more. it tells him about where he can redirect his efforts, where it would be better to focus on. it tells him that if he does want to emphasize something, that binding him might affect him more than it does other people.
and for some people, wash would treat that line as solid, immovable, immutable. but for someone like pietro. it tells him, too, that if he ever does want to truly break him, it almost definitely would be here, driving him to the point where he'd entrust himself into his care, completely bound and motionless. a thing to note for the future. perhaps to push towards someday.
most importantly for now, it tells him that pietro wants this. that he listened, heard him, and however reluctantly, is trying to meet him at a halfway point, knowing that he needs to do it to get what he wants.
wash has lived here for almost two years, now, and staff in the lobby acknowledge him and pietro both, watching pietro with more curiosity as wash moves to the elevator. ]
Eighth, if you want the stairs.
[ another choice, and a simple one. the elevator doors slide open, and wash watches him for a moment, his gaze clearly lingering over pietro's body, to small trickle of blood from his chin down over the curve of his bruised throat. the knife spins again between his fingers, and he turns to moves inside. ]