02-08-2011, 01:45 AM
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His amber eyes followed her face, that strange unspoken shift playing across her face as she spoke. She still was too open, too readable. Anyone could destroy her if they sought, with teeth and claws and words to break her spirit back down. He worried for her because he considered her weak—and not in the brutish, chauvinistic idea of the word. Weak because she was far too open, far too soft to survive out in the world. She needed to be protected, she needed to be kept safe, and he knew that.
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If there was a second layer to her words, Ezekiel did not hear them. He laughed again, one calloused hand rising to rub against his chin. “Oh, not with these scars. You should have seen them before they healed up.” Five to four, as they had healed, and finally down to two. He was lucky he had not gone blind. “Speaking of the old man…” he said lightly, winking at her.