[Oh if only the voices in his head ever gave him anything as useful as room numbers. The angel makes a shitty celestial concierge. And Prior is not crying. His eyes are wet but that's incidental. They're sore, someone pumped gas into them not so long ago and it's little wonder if they stream a little from time to time.
Just in case that's not a story Nash would believe, Prior looks back at him from between the splayed gaps in his fingertips.]
The wrapping could be better, but shining armour's gaudy anyway. You do.
[Flowers in his hair would hardly go with the current outfit, but he might wind up with some stray petals there anyway as he ducks under the makeshift bouquet. Meanwhile Nash is going to end up with Prior's arms and, well, most of him really, wrapped tight round him. It's sudden, and warm, and as honest as he can be.]
no subject
Just in case that's not a story Nash would believe, Prior looks back at him from between the splayed gaps in his fingertips.]
The wrapping could be better, but shining armour's gaudy anyway. You do.
[Flowers in his hair would hardly go with the current outfit, but he might wind up with some stray petals there anyway as he ducks under the makeshift bouquet. Meanwhile Nash is going to end up with Prior's arms and, well, most of him really, wrapped tight round him. It's sudden, and warm, and as honest as he can be.]