[ Archer is not a whimsical man. He's methodical, precise, and logical to the exclusion of all else. He's had to be that way to keep himself sane, and as much as he despises himself and everything he has become, even that is debatable, some days. He has nothing good to offer, nothing in the way of positivity to share with anyone else, and if not for that rigid control of his, so much of that nastiness would come spilling through the cracks.
She laughs at him lightly, and really, she should. It's laughable -- a grown man, a Heroic Spirit who's seen every sort of hell humanity could produce, and he's standing here, uncertain and undecided over a kiss.
Just do it. It's nothing.
He closes his eyes. Of course...it should be nothing. He knows that, and yet, in his mind, it never will be. Because of what he feels in this moment and the fact that he feels at all -- that some part of him is still human even though he never will or could be again.
He exhales softly. Some of the tension slides out of his shoulders, and his eyes slip open again, softer, maybe, than she's ever seen them. She doesn't need to show him how. He's done this before even if he can no longer remember the last time he did.
Fingers ghost briefly down her cheek, and with that, he does it. He kisses her, a gentle, unobtrusive thing that conveys a surprising amount of warmth.
He could never find a middle ground or a happy medium of any kind with his ideals, and this is no different. Even showing a little always ends up being too much. ]
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She laughs at him lightly, and really, she should. It's laughable -- a grown man, a Heroic Spirit who's seen every sort of hell humanity could produce, and he's standing here, uncertain and undecided over a kiss.
Just do it. It's nothing.
He closes his eyes. Of course...it should be nothing. He knows that, and yet, in his mind, it never will be. Because of what he feels in this moment and the fact that he feels at all -- that some part of him is still human even though he never will or could be again.
He exhales softly. Some of the tension slides out of his shoulders, and his eyes slip open again, softer, maybe, than she's ever seen them. She doesn't need to show him how. He's done this before even if he can no longer remember the last time he did.
Fingers ghost briefly down her cheek, and with that, he does it. He kisses her, a gentle, unobtrusive thing that conveys a surprising amount of warmth.
He could never find a middle ground or a happy medium of any kind with his ideals, and this is no different. Even showing a little always ends up being too much. ]