[ They've been this close before, is Caleb's first, frantic thought. But the memory of the gnoll mine is blurred; Molly's lips on his forehead had been like a punctuation on the end of a nightmare, pinning Caleb back to the present as much as the sharp crack of Molly's palm on his cheek had been. The second time Molly had pinned him had been almost easier to manage. The intent had been very clear; Caleb could deal with calmly stated threats better than he could tenderness.
Or flirtation, as it turns out. Caleb can't tell if Molly means this moment personally or if it's sport, or if Molly just flirts as easily as he breathes and can't miss the opportunity even if it's Caleb on the receiving end. (Because who could want him? Why would anyone want him?) But Molly gets what he's after: Caleb flushes, freezing in place over the strangeness of gentle fingers in his hair and Molly's amused expression. ]
Very good.
[ Caleb's voice sounds strangled. ]
I didn't even see you put it there. Clever.
[ Ruining the illusion outright, but Caleb awkwardly can't do anything else. He can't even manage eye contact at the moment. The sensation of Molly's fingers in his hair lingers. Caleb lifts a nervous hand to smooth over his hair, as if something's been left out of place. ]
Did you learn to pick pockets like that as well?
[ As far as Caleb's concerned, it's a slippery slope from slight of hand with a coin to lifting an entire coin purse. And it's also the best redirect of the conversation he can think of, because Caleb certainly doesn't want Molly's attention settling on his own reaction to Molly's trick. ]
[ Molly enjoys this more than he should, watching the gears start to turn inside of Caleb's head and the redness rush up into his cheeks. He squeezes the copper between his fingers, lips curved into a devious grin, amusement blatantly evident. He likes this, Caleb flustered expression, voice strangled as he tries to process Molly's actions.
That awkwardness - the way he can't manage eye contact, the nervous hand reaching up to smooth over his hair, Mollymauk can't help but find it incredibly endearing. ]
I am quite clever, aren't I?
[ A flick of the wrist, the coin spins in the air before Molly catches it. Fingers close tightly around the small, warm metal, pocketing as he tilts his head - a lazy attempt to catch Caleb's gaze. ]
I picked up a few things with the circus.
[ More than a few, in truth. If it wasn't for the circus he wouldn't be the person he is now, he wouldn't be Mollymauk. ]
And I happen to have very talented hands. [ The grin widens, flashing teeth, red eyes practically twinkling. ] Or so I'm told.
[ Molly is...something. Caleb doesn't know the right words for the flamboyant show of Molly's presence. But he does know that Molly at least has a particular gift for avoiding making Caleb feel as if he is being laughed at. Molly's enjoyment is so transparent and so open; it's colored with unspoken invitation. Even if Caleb can't quite manage to partake, he appreciates that in Molly. ]
And so humble.
[ Caleb's tone is dry, but somehow faintly, embarrassingly fond. ]
Do you care to tell me what else you picked up?
[ The question isn't exactly fair. Caleb isn't about to share any of the things he's picked up on the road. He and Nott have a fair number of tricks up their sleeve, but they've yet to let their companions in on them. They should, one of these days. Caleb knows they're well past the point where they may have had to use their usual plans to scuttle away from their traveling companions, but something in him demands they keep holding back. It's hard to put all his trust into this arrangement, when it would be so easy for him to make a mess of it. ]
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Or flirtation, as it turns out. Caleb can't tell if Molly means this moment personally or if it's sport, or if Molly just flirts as easily as he breathes and can't miss the opportunity even if it's Caleb on the receiving end. (Because who could want him? Why would anyone want him?) But Molly gets what he's after: Caleb flushes, freezing in place over the strangeness of gentle fingers in his hair and Molly's amused expression. ]
Very good.
[ Caleb's voice sounds strangled. ]
I didn't even see you put it there. Clever.
[ Ruining the illusion outright, but Caleb awkwardly can't do anything else. He can't even manage eye contact at the moment. The sensation of Molly's fingers in his hair lingers. Caleb lifts a nervous hand to smooth over his hair, as if something's been left out of place. ]
Did you learn to pick pockets like that as well?
[ As far as Caleb's concerned, it's a slippery slope from slight of hand with a coin to lifting an entire coin purse. And it's also the best redirect of the conversation he can think of, because Caleb certainly doesn't want Molly's attention settling on his own reaction to Molly's trick. ]
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That awkwardness - the way he can't manage eye contact, the nervous hand reaching up to smooth over his hair, Mollymauk can't help but find it incredibly endearing. ]
I am quite clever, aren't I?
[ A flick of the wrist, the coin spins in the air before Molly catches it. Fingers close tightly around the small, warm metal, pocketing as he tilts his head - a lazy attempt to catch Caleb's gaze. ]
I picked up a few things with the circus.
[ More than a few, in truth. If it wasn't for the circus he wouldn't be the person he is now, he wouldn't be Mollymauk. ]
And I happen to have very talented hands. [ The grin widens, flashing teeth, red eyes practically twinkling. ] Or so I'm told.
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And so humble.
[ Caleb's tone is dry, but somehow faintly, embarrassingly fond. ]
Do you care to tell me what else you picked up?
[ The question isn't exactly fair. Caleb isn't about to share any of the things he's picked up on the road. He and Nott have a fair number of tricks up their sleeve, but they've yet to let their companions in on them. They should, one of these days. Caleb knows they're well past the point where they may have had to use their usual plans to scuttle away from their traveling companions, but something in him demands they keep holding back. It's hard to put all his trust into this arrangement, when it would be so easy for him to make a mess of it. ]