Yeah, if you don't mind. [Sorey circles around to lean against the desk instead, since leaning over Mikleo (while nice) is a little annoying for both of them to tolerate for long.
He's not so much interested in the book anyway, more that he's interested in hearing Mikleo's voice. He can't get enough of it, it seems; the moments when Mikleo's awake are like oasis spots in a desert, and though Sorey wouldn't trade Mikleo sleeping and recovering his strength for anything in the world, he loves being able to talk to him and hear an answer.
When Mikleo turns back to the book Sorey's expression softens as it's often done since he came back; warm and grateful and just that small bit afraid, buried deep. He leans back against the desk and clasps his wrist in front of his legs to listen but keeps his eyes on Mikleo, on the way the light sits in his hair, the way his fingers slip between the pages, elegant and sure.]
no subject
He's not so much interested in the book anyway, more that he's interested in hearing Mikleo's voice. He can't get enough of it, it seems; the moments when Mikleo's awake are like oasis spots in a desert, and though Sorey wouldn't trade Mikleo sleeping and recovering his strength for anything in the world, he loves being able to talk to him and hear an answer.
When Mikleo turns back to the book Sorey's expression softens as it's often done since he came back; warm and grateful and just that small bit afraid, buried deep. He leans back against the desk and clasps his wrist in front of his legs to listen but keeps his eyes on Mikleo, on the way the light sits in his hair, the way his fingers slip between the pages, elegant and sure.]