He could feel Hopeless's eyes on him. Erskine looked up, still flushed, and smiled in an intentional effort to ease them both past that bit of awkwardness--although a second later he noticed the blush on Hopeless and the smile turned into one of genuine amusement. Hopeless was adorable when he blushed. Erskine had missed that.
...and maybe he needed to stop thinking about Hopeless being adorable, because it was only making things more awkward and making him blush harder. This was the opposite of helping. Thankfully a moment later his curiosity won out, wondering what Hopeless meant by that last bit, and the embarrassment receded in his mind to be replaced shortly by a kind of stunned wonder.
He froze in the doorway next to Hopeless. A loom. A good loom, not quite as large as the one the couple who'd adopted him had used in their trade, but large enough to make almost anything. Erskine hadn't used a loom in centuries but he'd been good at it once, had been an honest-to-God weaver before he'd been a mage or a soldier or anything else. He didn't know if he could do it anymore, although for the time being the surprise of the gift was more important than the practicality of it. Hopeless had done this for him. Hopeless had managed to sneak a piece of equipment larger than a man into the building as a surprise for him. Had left him a blessing, hand-carved. All this time and effort....
The smile that blossomed on Erskine's face this time wasn't quite amusement, and certainly wasn't just covering for a blush. He wasn't really sure what it was, just like he wasn't sure what kind of impulse led him to lean over, hands lifting to either side of Hopeless's face, and kiss him full on the lips. He'd think about it in a minute, no doubt.
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...and maybe he needed to stop thinking about Hopeless being adorable, because it was only making things more awkward and making him blush harder. This was the opposite of helping. Thankfully a moment later his curiosity won out, wondering what Hopeless meant by that last bit, and the embarrassment receded in his mind to be replaced shortly by a kind of stunned wonder.
He froze in the doorway next to Hopeless. A loom. A good loom, not quite as large as the one the couple who'd adopted him had used in their trade, but large enough to make almost anything. Erskine hadn't used a loom in centuries but he'd been good at it once, had been an honest-to-God weaver before he'd been a mage or a soldier or anything else. He didn't know if he could do it anymore, although for the time being the surprise of the gift was more important than the practicality of it. Hopeless had done this for him. Hopeless had managed to sneak a piece of equipment larger than a man into the building as a surprise for him. Had left him a blessing, hand-carved. All this time and effort....
The smile that blossomed on Erskine's face this time wasn't quite amusement, and certainly wasn't just covering for a blush. He wasn't really sure what it was, just like he wasn't sure what kind of impulse led him to lean over, hands lifting to either side of Hopeless's face, and kiss him full on the lips. He'd think about it in a minute, no doubt.