[Oh, it's interesting seeing Richie blush from this angle, and that's not referring to the view from the floor. Prior still remembers just how hard he'd been shut down when he'd accidentally stumbled onto Richie's coping strategy for resurrection: booze and narcotics and hate sex, a very particular blend that Prior assumed was made more potent by the equal measure of self-loathing that seemed to be involved.
But Richie's straight, to his mind. Awkward and ungainly about it sometimes, and easily affectionate at others. Not as easy to read as some people (kind, he remembers thinking, back in a body that hadn't fully grown into the length of its limbs, he was kind). But as hetero conditioned as they came, for all that his tolerance was easily broadened to acceptance, here.
And there's something half amused, half fond about the way Prior watches him go chasing after that pair of heels, stretching his leg out in front of him to relieve a little of the pressure.
The shoes are gaudy, now he looks at them with these eyes. Something he might have worn on stage during that particular phase of his life, but nothing he'd fall over himself for. The novelty of the inherent taboo those shoes encapsulate has worn off and left a kind of nostalgia in its place.
He can't quite believe that Richie actually bought the things. The memory of that easy manipulation finally drags a smile across his face as he holds his hands out to take them.]
They're pretty. Then again, so was I - you missed a trick there. [Shameless.] Literally.
[Sorry, sorry, he's laughing, there's no helping it. Good grief.]
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But Richie's straight, to his mind. Awkward and ungainly about it sometimes, and easily affectionate at others. Not as easy to read as some people (kind, he remembers thinking, back in a body that hadn't fully grown into the length of its limbs, he was kind). But as hetero conditioned as they came, for all that his tolerance was easily broadened to acceptance, here.
And there's something half amused, half fond about the way Prior watches him go chasing after that pair of heels, stretching his leg out in front of him to relieve a little of the pressure.
The shoes are gaudy, now he looks at them with these eyes. Something he might have worn on stage during that particular phase of his life, but nothing he'd fall over himself for. The novelty of the inherent taboo those shoes encapsulate has worn off and left a kind of nostalgia in its place.
He can't quite believe that Richie actually bought the things. The memory of that easy manipulation finally drags a smile across his face as he holds his hands out to take them.]
They're pretty. Then again, so was I - you missed a trick there. [Shameless.] Literally.
[Sorry, sorry, he's laughing, there's no helping it. Good grief.]