closed;

[1066]

Who: Shaun Hastings and Desmond Miles
What: reuinions
When: day 344
Where: Room 301, Odin House

[ after a fairly embarrassing incident a few nights previous, and a series of interactions with a miniature version of someone that should have been dead, was dead by the standard definition of 'dead', Shaun really couldn't find it in him to be surprised by anything the city had to offer him anymore.

might not have been home, and it might not have been voluntary, but this whole Asgard bit? not so bad. not really. even had a fairly formidable library to meander through. made for a pleasant few first days in the city. the historian was even beginning to become accustomed to his surroundings, gods forbid.

that, however, was all about to come crashing down as Shaun strolled, hands in pockets, back towards his room. he made it about five metres from the doorway only to give pause at seeing the door ajar. far as he knew, Rebecca was still at the library where he'd last seen her, and there wasn't really anyone else who would be dropping by for a visit, not so soon. oh well, could always handle himself if it came down to it, couldn't he? he was an assassin after all.

so he wanders towards the open doorway, and peers around the corner, eyes making out the outline of a figure, out a short haircut, out a scarred lip. for some reason, he has some trouble getting as excited as he perhaps should. maybe it's because for the first few seconds, he thinks oh, it's Altaïr again.

but this man's different. casually sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows against his thighs, a stupid pull of the lips smeared across his features that Altaïr would never dare don. and that's when it slams into him; his lips part, and for perhaps the first time in Shaun's life, he's not really sure what to say.

that's only for a second though. because after another moment passes, he crosses (shaking) arms over one another, and tilts his head back, steeling out his voice to say: ] Oh, well look who finally decided to show up. [ never mind the last syllable of that sentence ended on a decidedly high, almost broken note. no, let's not pay much mind to that at all. ]

Comments

[familyissues]

[ He hasn't been hanging around too terribly long, much of his morning taken up quite pleasantly by Altaïr and Maria. Desmond's expression is mildly expectant behind his smile, having heard the soft sound of Shaun's footsteps in the hall.

For a moment he just... keeps smiling at Shaun, like an absolute idiot. The absence of his friends, his comrades from home had left two curiously Shaun and Rebecca-shaped holes in his life here, ones he had made a pretty good go of trying to fill. Yeah, he missed them. Missed Shaun at all which might have surprised him if he'd been told that after they first met. It felt too much to hope that they might one day show up here in Asgard, and he had reluctantly, after these past few months, put aside the idea.

Clearly that part of his life was finished, and he had to continue looking forward.

...and then Asgard goes and pulls this shit. His retort is assy and short, a sharp contrast to the beaming child who had taken to Shaun almost immediately and begged him for more gruesome stories about bone cathedrals and Parisian guillotines. Desmond holds that memory, like most of the events those precious few days, very close to his heart. ]

What, no hug?

[ That's cool. Desmond's just gonna take one, you stupid prickly asshole. He stands, moving to wrap his arms around Hastings in a brief, but warm bro hug. And then, for good measure, he mumbles into Shaun's shoulder, ]

If you try to punch me I'll drop you.

[1066]

[ it's a good thing Desmond's explicitly mentioned not to punch him, because it's the first thing on his mind after Desmond's pulled his old friend into a hug. or, well, one of the first things. the other is oh god you idiot and I can't believe this is actually happening and well the very tiny very small thought of I missed you, oh god I really, really missed you which is promptly acknowledged and shoved away in a neat little box and set on fire.

as hands settle on him for that fleeting moment, Shaun tenses, then relaxes, hands coming down to rest against Desmond's back as he sighs, obviously burdened by the fact Desmond is touching him. right. that's the only thing bothering him right now. ]

Now you know full well that I'm not violent when I don't need to be, Desmond. [ that isn't a smile colouring the edges of his lips, don't you dare try to address that if you wish to keep your crown jewels, Desmond Miles. ]