[ His head tilts at that, something like confusion coming into his eyes as he looks up at him—and as Yingxing curls his arm under his head, Dan Heng notices not for the first time—but processes for the first time—the scars that litter the skin, and he frowns, because now he has two questions...
His hand lifts from the older man's chest, fingers tracing lightly over those scars instead, a reminder for when they're done with this conversation. ]
You don't seem like a creep. Why would you? I'm the one who came here.
no subject
His hand lifts from the older man's chest, fingers tracing lightly over those scars instead, a reminder for when they're done with this conversation. ]
You don't seem like a creep. Why would you? I'm the one who came here.