[perhaps it’s the “sir” that does it – the reminder of their positions, koby’s as honored guest and silco’s as waitstaff. it’s a reversal of every other time he’s been in this exact situation, and the realization of power feels like he’s swallowed something caustic, something burning it’s way down his throat, because – because he could say and do anything, and he’d be in the right. he knows that. he fucking knows that, because he's had it happen.
something shifts in those wide, doe-like eyes, a twist at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly he’s tucked in on himself, the position seeming protective, rather than beguiling.]
I’m not – don’t call me “sir”. Please. [halting, unsure, his chin coming to rest on his drawn-up, bare knees, frowning deeper as he repeats the word.] You’re – we’re not – [that different.
a little huff and koby’s moving back, suddenly, rising up on his knees and grabbing the remote with one jerky hand, teeth gnawing at his lower lip as he offers it at arm’s length instead, brow still knit in that uncomfortable awareness, that shift that makes his skin prickle all over.] Here.
cw: probably continued, v. vaguely
something shifts in those wide, doe-like eyes, a twist at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly he’s tucked in on himself, the position seeming protective, rather than beguiling.]
I’m not – don’t call me “sir”. Please. [halting, unsure, his chin coming to rest on his drawn-up, bare knees, frowning deeper as he repeats the word.] You’re – we’re not – [that different.
a little huff and koby’s moving back, suddenly, rising up on his knees and grabbing the remote with one jerky hand, teeth gnawing at his lower lip as he offers it at arm’s length instead, brow still knit in that uncomfortable awareness, that shift that makes his skin prickle all over.] Here.