[Diarmuid looks up from where he had been sorting through some things in his trunk. At first, from the way he had been checking the hall, Diarmuid worried that someone might be chasing Waver, but the look on his friend's face suggests something else.
Something...different.
Slowly, Diarmuid stands and walks over to his friend. He means to ask what is going on, but instead finds himself winding his fingers into Waver's hair.]
no subject
Something...different.
Slowly, Diarmuid stands and walks over to his friend. He means to ask what is going on, but instead finds himself winding his fingers into Waver's hair.]
It's so soft...