(no subject)

[whoiwasmeant2be]

Tobias is on his usual perch. He's just come in from a hunt, so resting and digesting is the next obvious step. He's done it hundreds of times since he and Rachel moved into the rooms.

But none of those times have involved thinking about how different peanut butter tastes. Not just peanut butter, either, but human food in general. He doesn't glance at the calendar on the wall. Rachel hasn't said anything about it since he put it up, so maybe she hasn't noticed it. If she hasn't, he certainly doesn't want to draw her attention to it. That might lead to... questions.

The kind he didn't know the answer to. The kind that could get her hopes up, which would make her all the more disappointed in him if something went wrong.

So, no calendar-looking. Just sitting, adjusting his feathers every so often, and wondering if peanut butter tastes any different when you're a hawk.

Comments

[theresnodoor]

For that, she smiles.

It's not the same. It's not a grin or a laugh. But that doesn't make it less real. If anything it's more honest than any laugh she gave a cartoon.

If he wants to be human sometimes, if he wants to hide that from her, keep it to himself... that's up to him. His body, his choice what shape to keep it in.

And he's here. He hasn't left her to go home.

It has to count for something. It does count for something.

[whoiwasmeant2be]

It's not that much. Not really. He has nothing to go back to, and the truth is that even when he isn't sure what he's doing, Rachel is home.

Being here? It's pretty much the absolute least he can do. He should do more, really.

But... he can't. Yet.

Maybe one day?

[theresnodoor]

Rachel wouldn't know what to ask for.

Except...

But no. She's done her best not to.

She won't.

But she will pinch his beak between two fingers and grin again.

[whoiwasmeant2be]

It's enough. It has to be.

For now, at least.

Maybe one day it will be different, but maybe it won't. So Tobias doesn't think about the maybe. He just pushes his beak against her fingers again.

[theresnodoor]

She knows, intimately, that it would take barely any pressure at all for him to tear her fingertip to the bone.

It's an idle thought, an amusement as she pets his throat, then drops her hands back down to fold on her stomach.

He doesn't - or the hawk doesn't - really like to be touched. Tobias tolerates it, when she tries, but she won't take advantage of that.

...anymore than she just has.

[whoiwasmeant2be]

The hawk doesn't like it, and Tobias was never a touchy-feely sort, but a little stillness is easy enough to give. Not enough, perhaps, but he can give it.

For Rachel.