[all the better that Kit takes his time; it gives Vincent more time of his own to recover in his own way. as soon as the other boy is out the door he's scrubbing tiredly at his face, ignoring the flakes of dried blood that catch beneath his nails as he does so. although his body screams for it, he refrains from returning to the bench even without watchful eyes. he still had something to prove here.
he does make the compromise of settling painfully against the nearby wall, a foot propped against it to further brace himself. it offered him a good view of both doorways, as well as a quiet perch with which to try and settle his mind. he was always quick to rile, but even he could acknowledge that right now a cool head was more important.
his fingers wander, digging through his jacket pockets once more for something to swap out his notebook for. they find it easily enough, and the trade is enacted - half a pack of cigarettes for the safety of his music. it's forbidden to smoke indoors, but Vincent honestly can't bring himself to care. he desperately needs the nicotine boost right now, and the aquarium smoke alarms have already proven themselves to be a bit lax. it was fine.
when Kit returns he'll find that his companion seems to also be rejuvenated despite having done nothing to improve his appearance. the cigarette dangles idly from his lips as he looks up at the sound of the other teen's return, casting a skeptical gaze across his new hairstyle. if the situation were a bit less chaotic there would undoubtedly have been a snide comment about that. as it is, he keeps it to himself.]
There's nothing wrong with my hand.
[his defensive tone is briefly colored with genuine bafflement as it takes Vincent several moments to recall what he might be talking about. ah, that was right. he'd broken the skin pretty deeply clenching his fist on the stairwell.
so he'd noticed even that, had he? it seemed that critical mind of his wasn't entirely posture.]
no subject
he does make the compromise of settling painfully against the nearby wall, a foot propped against it to further brace himself. it offered him a good view of both doorways, as well as a quiet perch with which to try and settle his mind. he was always quick to rile, but even he could acknowledge that right now a cool head was more important.
his fingers wander, digging through his jacket pockets once more for something to swap out his notebook for. they find it easily enough, and the trade is enacted - half a pack of cigarettes for the safety of his music. it's forbidden to smoke indoors, but Vincent honestly can't bring himself to care. he desperately needs the nicotine boost right now, and the aquarium smoke alarms have already proven themselves to be a bit lax. it was fine.
when Kit returns he'll find that his companion seems to also be rejuvenated despite having done nothing to improve his appearance. the cigarette dangles idly from his lips as he looks up at the sound of the other teen's return, casting a skeptical gaze across his new hairstyle. if the situation were a bit less chaotic there would undoubtedly have been a snide comment about that. as it is, he keeps it to himself.]
There's nothing wrong with my hand.
[his defensive tone is briefly colored with genuine bafflement as it takes Vincent several moments to recall what he might be talking about. ah, that was right. he'd broken the skin pretty deeply clenching his fist on the stairwell.
so he'd noticed even that, had he? it seemed that critical mind of his wasn't entirely posture.]