[ Funnily enough, the names don't register much, and it probably shows in his face first, no real recognition sparking in the dark of his eyes. He's probably heard of Kate before, but none of them elicit any real reaction. He still barely knows half the people in this place. He told himself it was necessary, safer for everyone that way, and maybe there's some truth to that. But the deeper truth is that ever since he showed up here, bleeding all over the snow, he'd been planning escape.
Escape's easier when you don't know the names and faces of the people around you. And now he feels too many people, these threads keeping him anchored, bound. Their emotions and feelings and— whatever the hell's happening to him in Wynonna's proximity. His eyes drop to that monochrome thread for a moment before he looks back up, expression serious, a little searching. ]
I don't know them, no.
[ He keeps getting snippets of what's in her head, and he begins to realise that now. Little. Edward. That's the one that sticks out the most. And— Breaking everything you touch, wanting distance and wanting closeness and both wants existing like opposite ends of a magnet, two unlike charges doomed to ricochet off one another. There is no right choice when you're the goddamned problem. No one who's ever been close to him has had a happy ending.
Whose thoughts are these? They're his, only they're also not. Konstantin keeps staring at her, and there's a kneejerk urge to take a step back, put distance between himself and this too, only.... only he doesn't have anywhere else to go right now, in this moment where he really needs to get away. And the blips of her thoughts keep him occupied, maybe, not exactly welcomed, but it's a static that's a lot better than being left alone with his thoughts.
Abruptly— ]
Do you want to get a drink somewhere?
[ He can't actually drink alcohol, and the whole town's quiet and still, but there's places to go and sit and drink something. ....He'd even follow her back to her cabin if she insists on going there instead, or he'd try to, anyway. He's aware Wynonna dislikes his company at least a little (.....a lot, Kostya), but that's never stopped him from nudging his way into her peripheral anyway. He can pretend for a little while that he doesn't know she looked at him like he was something unpleasant to be found under a rock.
What he lets go unspoken are the waves of his own thought, not intentionally broadcast to her but just that — I can't go back. Not yet. Not now.
no subject
Escape's easier when you don't know the names and faces of the people around you. And now he feels too many people, these threads keeping him anchored, bound. Their emotions and feelings and— whatever the hell's happening to him in Wynonna's proximity. His eyes drop to that monochrome thread for a moment before he looks back up, expression serious, a little searching. ]
I don't know them, no.
[ He keeps getting snippets of what's in her head, and he begins to realise that now. Little. Edward. That's the one that sticks out the most. And— Breaking everything you touch, wanting distance and wanting closeness and both wants existing like opposite ends of a magnet, two unlike charges doomed to ricochet off one another. There is no right choice when you're the goddamned problem. No one who's ever been close to him has had a happy ending.
Whose thoughts are these? They're his, only they're also not. Konstantin keeps staring at her, and there's a kneejerk urge to take a step back, put distance between himself and this too, only.... only he doesn't have anywhere else to go right now, in this moment where he really needs to get away. And the blips of her thoughts keep him occupied, maybe, not exactly welcomed, but it's a static that's a lot better than being left alone with his thoughts.
Abruptly— ]
Do you want to get a drink somewhere?
[ He can't actually drink alcohol, and the whole town's quiet and still, but there's places to go and sit and drink something. ....He'd even follow her back to her cabin if she insists on going there instead, or he'd try to, anyway. He's aware Wynonna dislikes his company at least a little (.....a lot, Kostya), but that's never stopped him from nudging his way into her peripheral anyway. He can pretend for a little while that he doesn't know she looked at him like he was something unpleasant to be found under a rock.
What he lets go unspoken are the waves of his own thought, not intentionally broadcast to her but just that — I can't go back. Not yet. Not now.
Need to get away ]