If she asked him if he wanted to know what her dream contained, he'd say yes in a heartbeat. He nearly asks - if they hadn't already discussed boundaries, if Hannibal hadn't already been subtly steered with the positive outcomes of respecting her enforced distances and learning when prying would and wouldn't be appreciated, he surely would be digging further. But they've come just far enough together that he'll at least let it settle, give it greater thought before demanding parts of her heart get handed over.
Neph's hair is damp under his cheek, but it's cold - her skin is cooling, but her hair is already there. It tickles across his chin when they both shift closer to each other, as if there's really the space to do so.
She squeezes, though, and somehow that tiny bit of space between them becomes even more compressed. Hannibal's eyes slide closed against even the minimal light in the room, focusing on this new way of being shown Neph wants him around.
She's taking what he reassured her about and...regarding none of it. Specifically, she's elaborating on why she isn't capable of letting go of her concern from putting him at potential risk, but Hannibal can't find it in him to be annoyed at her for doing it. He just also can't muster up any true fear about the fact that Neph has prejudiced other Allomancers halfway across the globe, still plotting the end of her and her scattered people. It's an energy that vibrates through him, sure, but it's not anxiety. It's a sharpness, a struck knife after coming off the whetstone.
"I don't feel locked in." How to admit that the thought of stakes that high, of a challenge so deep, of excuses so wonderful to be something terrible in order to win - how to tell Neph that it's exciting? "I don't shy away from challenges, Neph. Not when they stand in the way of something I want." And he wants the challenge. He wants the excuse to see how terrible he can be.
no subject
Neph's hair is damp under his cheek, but it's cold - her skin is cooling, but her hair is already there. It tickles across his chin when they both shift closer to each other, as if there's really the space to do so.
She squeezes, though, and somehow that tiny bit of space between them becomes even more compressed. Hannibal's eyes slide closed against even the minimal light in the room, focusing on this new way of being shown Neph wants him around.
She's taking what he reassured her about and...regarding none of it. Specifically, she's elaborating on why she isn't capable of letting go of her concern from putting him at potential risk, but Hannibal can't find it in him to be annoyed at her for doing it. He just also can't muster up any true fear about the fact that Neph has prejudiced other Allomancers halfway across the globe, still plotting the end of her and her scattered people. It's an energy that vibrates through him, sure, but it's not anxiety. It's a sharpness, a struck knife after coming off the whetstone.
"I don't feel locked in." How to admit that the thought of stakes that high, of a challenge so deep, of excuses so wonderful to be something terrible in order to win - how to tell Neph that it's exciting? "I don't shy away from challenges, Neph. Not when they stand in the way of something I want." And he wants the challenge. He wants the excuse to see how terrible he can be.
"And I want you."