[He sounds distracted when he says it, focused on Cayde, and one hand slides itself up to brush over the side of Cayde's face. The feeling of metal under his palm, of the edges of the struts in his cheeks that he'd shown Hank oh, maybe a couple hundred years ago, for a second it makes Hank wonder with a vague and horrible curiosity what Cayde's face was like, his real face. His human face. But this is the face Hank knows and this is the one he was looking for, what Cayde looks like when he knows him, and the relief of that's stronger than any curiosity, it's like some kind of electrical shock shooting its energy through every part of him.]
God, it's good to hear your voice. See, I told you you could wake up. Good thing you did, too, I'd hate for you to dream-kill me twice.
[He tries to twist his lips up a little, the almost-smile born more out of that relief than because anything Hank just said was actually funny. Creeping up on that relief, though, is warmth, concern, the way Cayde'd curled over just now still floating through Hank's brain, so his other hand moves down to rest on Cayde's ribs, feeling the leather, just sits itself there.]
no subject
[He sounds distracted when he says it, focused on Cayde, and one hand slides itself up to brush over the side of Cayde's face. The feeling of metal under his palm, of the edges of the struts in his cheeks that he'd shown Hank oh, maybe a couple hundred years ago, for a second it makes Hank wonder with a vague and horrible curiosity what Cayde's face was like, his real face. His human face. But this is the face Hank knows and this is the one he was looking for, what Cayde looks like when he knows him, and the relief of that's stronger than any curiosity, it's like some kind of electrical shock shooting its energy through every part of him.]
God, it's good to hear your voice. See, I told you you could wake up. Good thing you did, too, I'd hate for you to dream-kill me twice.
[He tries to twist his lips up a little, the almost-smile born more out of that relief than because anything Hank just said was actually funny. Creeping up on that relief, though, is warmth, concern, the way Cayde'd curled over just now still floating through Hank's brain, so his other hand moves down to rest on Cayde's ribs, feeling the leather, just sits itself there.]
You doin okay in there?