What Comes Before

[Raffe]

“Took forever,” he agreed with a grin as Nox pulled him onto the train. “In fact I think you might even have a few grey hairs, there.” He grinned and ruffled his hand over Nox’s head before flopping down in a seat. Mirth lit his gaze, the push and pull tease, but also a wash of affection. The train lurched, and he let himself relax, watching Nox’s profile as the words spilled. Raffe nudged him a little with his arm, and leaned close. His voice was always soft on account of the scar, though it wasn’t why he closed the distance.

“You ramble when you’re worried. Or nervous. But I think you know that.” Most people didn’t call Raffe dependable. He’d spent so much of his life drifting and mixing with what most presumed to be the dubious company to be found in the undercity that the tarnish stuck. Those that knew him best understood the broadness of his shoulders, though. Raffe had a soft spot for that kind of need. Picking up strays, Carmen called it. And though Raffe couldn’t claim he’d fix Nox’s insecurities, or even understand all of them, the look in his eye then was earnest. He could probably guess what might fill the blanks when Nox tailed off. The shit thing was that there was so much to worry about.

“It’s cute,” he assured with a grin. “And I’m not sure I can really help with what’s going round in your head, but I can listen.”