[ there's a part of him that's always considering just not bothering about caring, that any difference he wanted to make in the world has lost his chance and now he's just victim to a future where it's all stopped mattering, where he's stopped mattering. he slept two hundred and fifty years and the world kept going without him.
but her gesture surprises him, her touch soft to his cheek, and so do her words. it's not the kind of thing he's used to hearing; he'd asked ortega once, when you look in my eyes, what do you see?
they're not your eyes.
kovacs exhales a soft sigh, uncrossing his arms as he raises his own hand, fingers gently sliding against the back of hers, tracing light over her knuckles. her skin is warm against his own. ]
You think that's a good thing? The guy under this face might be a lot more trouble than you know.
no subject
but her gesture surprises him, her touch soft to his cheek, and so do her words. it's not the kind of thing he's used to hearing; he'd asked ortega once, when you look in my eyes, what do you see?
they're not your eyes.
kovacs exhales a soft sigh, uncrossing his arms as he raises his own hand, fingers gently sliding against the back of hers, tracing light over her knuckles. her skin is warm against his own. ]
You think that's a good thing? The guy under this face might be a lot more trouble than you know.