Quote:
Originally Posted by
AmbiguouslyMe
"You seem awfully confident of that," she replied, swaying just a little exaggeratedly at the bump. Despite not knowing, not having any more answers than she'd had when she walked in the door, the anxiety was lifting. Because they were joking and it was light and whatever they were, or weren't, they were at least friends.
"I'm hilarious remember? Or did you let a firstie practice obliviate on you." And she poked him in the side. It was so nice to just joke around. Living at home didn't exactly afford her much opportunity for banter and while their exchange of letters - and puns - was welcome and much enjoyed, Amelia greatly preferred his presence.
She watched him carefully, though, as he shrugged and nodded a bit. There would be no prying from her, and she knew that he knew if he wanted to talk about it, she'd listen. And without thinking about it - about whether she could or should or if it was too much - she reached out and slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze.
"I'm good."
"Oh, I am, I'm very confident in it." Damien says, still grinning. He kind of wanted to leave his shoulder bumped up against Amelia's, finding the little bit of physical connection to be very, well... welcomed. Which was exactly way he pulled a way, creating enough distance between them that he could think clearly.
"How'd you know? I was doing it for extra credit." He wiggled at the poke, trying to keep his face impassive so that the joke could be believable (not that he really thought Amelia would fall for it). It was nice, being out here, talking with her, in person, he would be lying if he said she hadn't missed her presence. It was just something about the dark haired girl that put him at ease, made him smile and had his fingers itching.
This was one of the things he'd always appreciated about their friendship. They understood each other, let each other breath and went when they needed to, and when the other didn't want to talk they would let that sit too. Because sometimes not talking about things was as therapeutic as talking about them.
The dainty hand that occupied his own was... Comfortingly warm, and Damien returned the squeeze.