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Funny, turning it down for Zayneβs voice to reach better, when heβs rather petulantly silent after such an apt scolding. His bites are a touch slower, nearly pouting.
Though, Calebβs next words are enough to melt him entirely.
The sound of laughter, honeyed and honest, and β
A hand rises to meet the top of Calebβs head, savouring the feeling of silken strands in between his fingers.
βYouβll let be good and let ge treat you, wonβt you?β Scratching his head, a rhythmic lull very much meant to make his own words more persuasive.
ββ¦is that so?β
Genuine intrigue pulls his eyes back to the water, lingering on the swans in mention. He hums, speaking without much thought β a rare occurrence, but it seems the manβs authenticity spurs Zayneβs own.
βIβm rather fond of this route before dawn breaks.β
Replying to @aquaseria
the whimsical ponds of a forgotten park.
"you've got a good eye. the swans around here only roam at this time, i believe it's to do with the temperature of the water."
he explains without prompt, pencil twirling a graceful somersault between fingers.
dissecting Zayne in his entirety. It should be more uncomfortable, he thinks β a surgeon on the operating table is certainly disarming, yet he doesnβt particularly mind.
The feigned tone leaves his lips curling, a small, endeared thing, before putting a hand out himself.
Eyes widening a fraction at the sudden vocalization, blinking slowly while observing such an earnest expression of joy.
β¦is he speaking to his supplies?
Zayneβs thoughts circle around that, for a few moments. Does he speak to them regularly? How little must he speak to β
Replying to @rootIessness
too deep in thought, perhaps. silence persists, a bubbling groan at his throat until it explodes in a loud epiphany, delight returning to eyes as he hurriedly powers through a quick scribble.
huh, where is his ...
"hm? there you are! told you not to run so far."
imperceptibly.
βI apologize for startling you.β He avoids eye contact just long enough for them to fall onto the page of his sketchbook, momentarily distracted.
ββ¦your eraser fell. If I were here the entire time, it would have been rude not to at least say hello. And give β
"It's hardly an accusation," Zayne says simply, huffing in lacklustre amusement at the raised hands. "And there's no reason to defend yourself. Whether I remember or not, I'm grateful."
For a moment, he's distracted by the motions of his fingerβthe machine is certainly advanced,
sharp as he picks up a piece, stopping just short of his lips. "It won't do, spoiling me as often as you do."
He takes a bite, letting it melt in his tongue. When he swallows, he doesn't sound like he's able to convince himself of his own words. "You have enough to worry about,






