Mmhm. [More of a chuckle than anything else, coaxed out by contact— by the soft rasp of his helmet filter as the sound settles down between her shoulder blades, so familiar by now it's practically a balm.
So her nails curl in between backplates, tucking in around the edges, not searching out weakness, but for an anchorpoint instead. Something to ground her here in the quiet, ticking seconds while her mind is uncharacteristically at peace.]
no subject
So her nails curl in between backplates, tucking in around the edges, not searching out weakness, but for an anchorpoint instead. Something to ground her here in the quiet, ticking seconds while her mind is uncharacteristically at peace.]
You don't fear anything.