Jonathan Sims

Martin looks back at John as he starts to answer, fumbling a little, but seeming pleased. He can't stop himself breaking into a ridiculous little grin over it. This so easily could have gone poorly, he thinks; it might've been presumptuous, or painful, or... or he doesn't know what. And he hadn't really laid out very clearly what he meant, nowhere near bold enough to say with any directness that he meant they should just... sleep together. But John has leapt to that conclusion on his own, and it... it's making him happy.

"Okay," he says. "Good."

Christ, now what? He feels a nervous pull to get up and make himself busy. The longer they just sit here together, the more intimate this becomes, the more he risks losing his composure entirely. It's nice, sitting here, sharing space. But maybe it isn't practical. And there'll be time for it later, now. Maybe.

"I suppose I'll put the kettle on," he says softly as he gets up. "And... maybe, I don't know, you could show me around this weird magic city."