"The Cat House, probably, but I wouldn't mind the company back there." He moves to rise, using the couch to push himself up not from weakness but simple age. Sitting on the floor is becoming harder and harder on his knees. He brings the spent potion bottle he'd left on the floor with him, pocketing the empty glass for later use. "Before we go, though, Chris?"
He looks over at his friend, seeming much better physically but the ghosts of the injuries still overlay in Hawke's eyes like a film. Black eye. Belt marks at his throat. Burns on his arm. Brutal mottled bruising all down one side from the beating that had given him a broken rib. Redness from a caning that burned like shame. And those angry words, hateful and mocking. He'll remember them all and keep that knowledge until he needs to use it.
Soon. But they need just a little more information, enough to follow through. He walks over, not unsteady but with purpose, and moves to pull Chris into a soft hug, a gesture he lets be easily broken and moved away from if it's not wanted. It's a gamble, maybe. He's not entirely certain that Chris' desire not to be touched right now will not outweigh a need for physical affection but he can't just leave without Chris knowing he's well loved, whatever form that takes.
"Since we're going to be about, as are you soon, what do we look for so we can keep you safe?" If Chris hasn't ducked away, Hawke brushes a stray curl from his face. "If you want it, not need but want, we'll see you anywhere you want to go for awhile. Just call."
He glances at Amelia briefly to make sure she's on board with this plan, fairly certain it's a yes before he turns his head. They're similar enough for that. Protectors and defenders both. "We just need to know who to be on alert for specifically in case they're not in uniform."
He hopes that's a covert enough way of asking to not arouse Chris' suspicions of their immediate purpose. If he thought the cleric wouldn't warn them off he would simply ask outright but this is better for now. He won't worry that anything will happen to them if he doesn't know they're going.
no subject
He looks over at his friend, seeming much better physically but the ghosts of the injuries still overlay in Hawke's eyes like a film. Black eye. Belt marks at his throat. Burns on his arm. Brutal mottled bruising all down one side from the beating that had given him a broken rib. Redness from a caning that burned like shame. And those angry words, hateful and mocking. He'll remember them all and keep that knowledge until he needs to use it.
Soon. But they need just a little more information, enough to follow through. He walks over, not unsteady but with purpose, and moves to pull Chris into a soft hug, a gesture he lets be easily broken and moved away from if it's not wanted. It's a gamble, maybe. He's not entirely certain that Chris' desire not to be touched right now will not outweigh a need for physical affection but he can't just leave without Chris knowing he's well loved, whatever form that takes.
"Since we're going to be about, as are you soon, what do we look for so we can keep you safe?" If Chris hasn't ducked away, Hawke brushes a stray curl from his face. "If you want it, not need but want, we'll see you anywhere you want to go for awhile. Just call."
He glances at Amelia briefly to make sure she's on board with this plan, fairly certain it's a yes before he turns his head. They're similar enough for that. Protectors and defenders both. "We just need to know who to be on alert for specifically in case they're not in uniform."
He hopes that's a covert enough way of asking to not arouse Chris' suspicions of their immediate purpose. If he thought the cleric wouldn't warn them off he would simply ask outright but this is better for now. He won't worry that anything will happen to them if he doesn't know they're going.