[ logan is waiting for something- karen picks up on that much, even as she is busy wrapping her head around what just happened. he relaxes, just a little, but not fully. karen can't blame him - she's treading in uncertain waters herself - but she's no longer waiting for something to drop, for whatever reason. it's probably not smart of her, the fact that this man she barely knows has just shown he has knives hidden between the bones of his hands. has blades that have just protruded from his knuckles.
it's something karen should probably figure out about herself - how she can sit here with what she's just seen, how it can be something so outside of her own understanding, how it can be something so obviously dangerous - and feel somehow more comfortable. it says something, that because it is something physical, because it isn't something he's lied about, that karen feels entirely safe again, though not entirely at ease. that little uncertainty that remains in her has a lot more to do with the fact she can tell logan is still a bit tense, still waiting for her to do something, still waiting for her to hurt him-
and some part of her has recognized- no, decided, that she can't do it. she won't. but she doesn't know what that is- what he's so worried about, what it might be that he thought she would do.
he seems just as uncertain as she is, somehow. just as caught off-guard by her lack of reaction as she is by the fact there are blades between his knuckles. when she reaches for his hand and asks if she can, and he doesn't respond, she waits for a breath before reaching just a bit further across the space and, gently, carefully, cupping her hands around his closest still-clenched fist. part of her thinks to pull it closer, to set his hand in her lap so she can really look at what it is she hasn't yet fully understood, but karen decides against it. instead, she closes the space between them herself, leaning forward and propping her elbows up on her knees. her hands are featherlight as she cups his hand and leans towards it, finally getting a clearer picture - seeing the way the blades really are protruding from his skin, like they've pierced right through the soft tissue between the bones of his knuckles.
she tilts her head off to the side to avoid the blades themselves, seeing her reflection in the metallic sheen. part of her considers running her thumb along the blades to see just how sharp they are, but something in the back of her head says that is a little too far. she squints, notices the blood but can't see him bleeding, before her eyes flick up to his own.
it's hard to tell what he's waiting for, what he wants from this conversation. karen knows what she wants to say, but there are a couple of seconds where she thinks the question over. considers if, maybe, it could be the wrong answer. when she hasn't yet figured it out, she decides to take a small leap, a risk, watching his eyes - his face - for some clue. ]
Does it cut you each time? [ distractedly, she brushes her thumbs along the skin of his fingers below the blades - brushes across the small amount of blood there. ] When they come out?
no subject
it's something karen should probably figure out about herself - how she can sit here with what she's just seen, how it can be something so outside of her own understanding, how it can be something so obviously dangerous - and feel somehow more comfortable. it says something, that because it is something physical, because it isn't something he's lied about, that karen feels entirely safe again, though not entirely at ease. that little uncertainty that remains in her has a lot more to do with the fact she can tell logan is still a bit tense, still waiting for her to do something, still waiting for her to hurt him-
and some part of her has recognized- no, decided, that she can't do it. she won't. but she doesn't know what that is- what he's so worried about, what it might be that he thought she would do.
he seems just as uncertain as she is, somehow. just as caught off-guard by her lack of reaction as she is by the fact there are blades between his knuckles. when she reaches for his hand and asks if she can, and he doesn't respond, she waits for a breath before reaching just a bit further across the space and, gently, carefully, cupping her hands around his closest still-clenched fist. part of her thinks to pull it closer, to set his hand in her lap so she can really look at what it is she hasn't yet fully understood, but karen decides against it. instead, she closes the space between them herself, leaning forward and propping her elbows up on her knees. her hands are featherlight as she cups his hand and leans towards it, finally getting a clearer picture - seeing the way the blades really are protruding from his skin, like they've pierced right through the soft tissue between the bones of his knuckles.
she tilts her head off to the side to avoid the blades themselves, seeing her reflection in the metallic sheen. part of her considers running her thumb along the blades to see just how sharp they are, but something in the back of her head says that is a little too far. she squints, notices the blood but can't see him bleeding, before her eyes flick up to his own.
it's hard to tell what he's waiting for, what he wants from this conversation. karen knows what she wants to say, but there are a couple of seconds where she thinks the question over. considers if, maybe, it could be the wrong answer. when she hasn't yet figured it out, she decides to take a small leap, a risk, watching his eyes - his face - for some clue. ]
Does it cut you each time? [ distractedly, she brushes her thumbs along the skin of his fingers below the blades - brushes across the small amount of blood there. ] When they come out?