[ week five ➝ chane ]

[sweats]

[ Hello, Chane. It's Tuesday, it's the afternoon, and Will arrives and falls in step with Chane wherever she's heading off to. Winston follows nearby, giving a soft woof and looking quite happy.

He gives her a smile, soft and kind and tips his head to her. ]

I'm curious. What year is it where you come from?

Comments

[tightly]

[ His arm comes around her and frames her so solidly, she's initially caught off guard. It's not often that Chane feels as small as she is, with silence and surety to prop her up like a wall. Embraces are the one consistent exception: when someone folds themselves around her, her response is to shrink into them. Perhaps not an immediate response, no -- but it happens regardless of whether or not it's urgent or delayed. As Will holds her, she finds herself slowly sagging, letting him bear some of her weight. Some, not all.

As he holds her, his voice is close enough to leave faint vibrations across her scalp. It's an odd sensation, one she isn't sure she likes yet. His words leave her equally unsure, neither convinced nor unconvinced, but listening intently because... well, that's all she can do.

It must be so easy for him to be friends with her, when he can say whatever he wants and she lacks the ability to disagree, to contest.

Despite all of this, unkind thoughts and indecisiveness, there's a clear indication of acceptance. With no other reason other than she wants to, Chane lingers in the moment, burying her face against his chest. ]