Love him. Loooove him. And he will take over the world. >D
Daemon might have looked around, if he were more interested in the way other people lived; as it was, he was content with his wagon--and, perhaps, his own home--and didn't wish to see how other people decorated things. He did notice the sheer size of the house, and saw that the one he'd scouted for himself and Fion wasn't nearly as big--or, at least, the floor Daemon had seen wasn't nearly as big--and it looked much newer than the stone house Daemon had seen. That was about all he had the chance to see before his attention was drawn back to the stranger, and he stared at her with dark eyes, uncomprehending but not fighting.
Her hand carefully traveled across his face, and hers was not the only stomach that twisted at the feeling. He was sensitive to touch, he'd found, and the gentle way she did it was not something he was used to. His siblings--his parents, even--had attempted to make him feel at home in his own skin, and that meant the same slaps on the back, the same yanking on his tail, the same rough touches he'd always gotten from them. This...was different. Even the stranger, the one he'd taught to sew--the man--who'd touched him hadn't done it like this.
He watched her eyes become cold and determined, the way his mother's sometimes did when one of them stepped over the line, and did something to hurt each other--the look she got when she was going to force them to make up. It relaxed him, to see and remember such an expression, and he offered a timid twitch of his lips, almost a smile. He made a soft whining noise in his throat as she wrapped her hands around it, feeling around firmly. Her hands were warm, he noticed; he'd always imagined medics as cold and impersonal, but he supposed, if they were, that didn't translate to their body heat--they could still be warm. He liked that thought. His eyes lifted as she spoke, and he blinked, for a moment not understanding, and then his eyes widened and he gurgled softly, and pulled his lips back from his teeth in the best imitation of a smile he'd made since the fire.
It wasn't a dazzling, or charming, or good-looking smile, but it did its best at expressing his joy.
Image courtesy of Watchsmart@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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