IC/OFFLINE: I want to take you far, from the cynics in this town

[falkeditupagain]

Time: Sometime after the Pitch fiasco.
Place: House on the Rock
Back in the usual house, Hanna's had enough of laying low. No one had come after him just yet, and if they hadn't, he assumed they were at least going to wait a little longer. Let it stew for a few months before something happens and when they think he's off guard. At least that's the strategy that people usually employ in books and movies. He'd assume the same could be applied here. Still, being in his own room again, back at the house is comforting. And he's just undressing for a much needed change of clothes after wearing the same thing the last few days while hiding, pausing in front of a ruddy mirror in the room leaning against the wall. It's odd, to see his chest now, without the staples and in place, just a simple line, lighter than the one he'd had before. His hand raises up to trace the line, stomach sucking in a moment before he lets his breath go.

It was like a weight had lifted, even if he has much more things to worry about now, but its one less thing, he thinks, unbuttoning his pants and slipping off his boxers to route through one of his drawers to find more worn clothing. And, locating some boxers and a pair of shorts, he considers a top, eyeing the long sleeve shirts that he'd gathered, but in the current weather it was much too hot for that.

Alternatively, he grabbed a tanktop that was usually reserved for undershirt status and pulled it on, considering the lack of sleeves and how, if he moved a certain way, the upper line of his scar was visible, but...not ugly like it had been. Managing an encouraging smile for himself to chase away any sort of insecurity, he kicked his dirty laundry away and went to open the door in search of some conversation. Maybe see if he could get a reaction out of his 'daring' and different shirt choice.

Comments

[doestheickyjobs]

It's hot, all right. Lea's stretched out on the couch in a threadbare orange T-shirt, one arm behind his head and the other trailing on the floor. He is fairly sure that at any moment now he's going to melt.

"Hanna?" he calls as he hears a light footstep in the hallway, curious, but slightly too melty to sit up and look over the back of the couch. "Is that you?"