[That's a lie. He'd do a flip anytime for Paul even though his inner ears are adapting much less slowly despite it all being dependant on him (embarrassing).
He knows Paul is planning something, striving for a victory in a battle that is mostly inside his head. That look in his face is too familiar. But at least, now, Kaworu doesn't ask what Paul is thinking. He's also learned that it's impossible to get these plans out of him, no matter how hard he pokes and asks. So instead, all he can do is let Paul win or try to beat him at a game he doesn't know.
He hasn't decided which to pick yet.
Delicate pale fingers move from being cradled in larger, calloused ones, to gripping the hand above his tightly. There's an upwards tug as Kaworu stands on the railing without swaying, impossibly steady on such a small piece of surface. Then he tugs Paul upwards, like he weighs nothing and for a moment they're aligned perfectly, impossibly, on the railing like paper figures in a book.
Then they go over the edge, Paul's hand still in his. Kaworu twists backwards as Paul twists forwards as the area around them distorts with light like the very fabric of reality is twisting. They slow as they make their descent, landing lightly, impossibly lightly, lighter than if they'd simply stepped down the last stair.
Kaworu grips Paul's hand a little as he stumbles, a little uncharacteristically.]
no subject
[That's a lie. He'd do a flip anytime for Paul even though his inner ears are adapting much less slowly despite it all being dependant on him (embarrassing).
He knows Paul is planning something, striving for a victory in a battle that is mostly inside his head. That look in his face is too familiar. But at least, now, Kaworu doesn't ask what Paul is thinking. He's also learned that it's impossible to get these plans out of him, no matter how hard he pokes and asks. So instead, all he can do is let Paul win or try to beat him at a game he doesn't know.
He hasn't decided which to pick yet.
Delicate pale fingers move from being cradled in larger, calloused ones, to gripping the hand above his tightly. There's an upwards tug as Kaworu stands on the railing without swaying, impossibly steady on such a small piece of surface. Then he tugs Paul upwards, like he weighs nothing and for a moment they're aligned perfectly, impossibly, on the railing like paper figures in a book.
Then they go over the edge, Paul's hand still in his. Kaworu twists backwards as Paul twists forwards as the area around them distorts with light like the very fabric of reality is twisting. They slow as they make their descent, landing lightly, impossibly lightly, lighter than if they'd simply stepped down the last stair.
Kaworu grips Paul's hand a little as he stumbles, a little uncharacteristically.]
There. Your study then?