Berrod Armstrong walked in a hasty, urgent stride as he made his way across Fesca's Wash. The next cluster of Grindstone matches under his watch was about to begin, and he wouldn't be seen slacking. In his path was Caleb Agron, hanging around to spectate -- and perhaps help in the event assistance was needed.Â
To an outsider's view the collision was one that held the danger of breaking out a fight -- Berrod's right shoulder thumped solidly against Caleb's; only the latter's bulk kept him from staggering backward, it seemed. A green glare met blue, challenge and irritation on the faces of both men. With a grunted mumble Berrod pushed forward and went on his way. He turned his head back to scowl at Caleb, who returned a dirty look to keep things even. A fight was avoided, it seemed, and an outsider was able to breathe a sigh of relief that a spontaneous highlander brawl had been avoided.
Anyone who was more familiar with the pair knew better. As Berrod's shoulder crashed into Caleb's, fingertips found each other for a moment's touch; just a grazing of skin -- all they usually allowed themselves in public. The push past was met with resistance only so they could maintain contact for as long as possible -- fleeting a period as it was. The glare between them was encrypted, adoration and appreciation wrapped beneath deceptive layers of hostility. When they looked back one last time, it was a promise to later compensate for the temporary lack of intimacy in a most vigorous fashion.Â
Berrod walked away to his matches, a light smile on his face -- quickly wiped off for the purpose of intimidating those under his charge. Caleb had the luxury of keeping his little smirk as the words murmured during the collision repeated themselves in his head.
"I love you."
To an outsider's view the collision was one that held the danger of breaking out a fight -- Berrod's right shoulder thumped solidly against Caleb's; only the latter's bulk kept him from staggering backward, it seemed. A green glare met blue, challenge and irritation on the faces of both men. With a grunted mumble Berrod pushed forward and went on his way. He turned his head back to scowl at Caleb, who returned a dirty look to keep things even. A fight was avoided, it seemed, and an outsider was able to breathe a sigh of relief that a spontaneous highlander brawl had been avoided.
Anyone who was more familiar with the pair knew better. As Berrod's shoulder crashed into Caleb's, fingertips found each other for a moment's touch; just a grazing of skin -- all they usually allowed themselves in public. The push past was met with resistance only so they could maintain contact for as long as possible -- fleeting a period as it was. The glare between them was encrypted, adoration and appreciation wrapped beneath deceptive layers of hostility. When they looked back one last time, it was a promise to later compensate for the temporary lack of intimacy in a most vigorous fashion.Â
Berrod walked away to his matches, a light smile on his face -- quickly wiped off for the purpose of intimidating those under his charge. Caleb had the luxury of keeping his little smirk as the words murmured during the collision repeated themselves in his head.
"I love you."
![[Image: tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/80be4033cdf57fb6268473ef9ce37db6/tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png)
