[ Unconsciously, Bellamy's head tips into the Darkling's fingers. The gentle pulls on his hair as he reattaches the ribbon feels good. Bellamy's thoughts shift to another place, to Gina and how she'd eased her fingers into his hair, scratched her nails along his scalp. He's slow to shake that memory away, though considering it is painful even with the alcohol to numb it. ]
Not like this.
[ Once, youthful and inexpert, but he'd left that gathering so quickly. The Ark hadn't been much for this kind of expression, and Bellamy had always had something waiting for him. (Octavia, tucked beneath the floor panels.) He turns to find the Darkling's face, expression questioning. ]
Have you?
[ Maybe the Darkling came from somewhere that had dancers like this, and people did as they liked, celebrated as they liked. That concept still felt alien to Bellamy, but he was quicker to consider it now after so much time with the nest. ]
no subject
Not like this.
[ Once, youthful and inexpert, but he'd left that gathering so quickly. The Ark hadn't been much for this kind of expression, and Bellamy had always had something waiting for him. (Octavia, tucked beneath the floor panels.) He turns to find the Darkling's face, expression questioning. ]
Have you?
[ Maybe the Darkling came from somewhere that had dancers like this, and people did as they liked, celebrated as they liked. That concept still felt alien to Bellamy, but he was quicker to consider it now after so much time with the nest. ]