[ Oh, Leon might have liked it a little, or a very specific part of him, for very specific reasons, such as the way her backside fits against his lap. He's in too much discomfort to appreciate it, eventually taking hold of the horn of her saddle in one hand, arm threaded under one of hers against her side, his other hand clasped over his ribs like it's the one thing holding them in place.
Her comment prompts a very abbreviated puff of breath that resolves into a gasp when, oof, laughing is not medicine for a banged up ribcage. ]
My hero. [ Leon quips dryly, but not without sincerity — it might not seem so, until his right hand strays from his left side and rests, just for a moment, on her hip, his thumb brushing against the side of her back in silent appreciation.
It doesn't last, he presses it against his own side, lapsing into tense silence. ]
no subject
Her comment prompts a very abbreviated puff of breath that resolves into a gasp when, oof, laughing is not medicine for a banged up ribcage. ]
My hero. [ Leon quips dryly, but not without sincerity — it might not seem so, until his right hand strays from his left side and rests, just for a moment, on her hip, his thumb brushing against the side of her back in silent appreciation.
It doesn't last, he presses it against his own side, lapsing into tense silence. ]