"No, it doesn't." Jacob will agree to that readily enough. "But slow progress is better than no progress, and so I caution you not to bugger yourself now."
Or, in English: I can feel you trying to get up, Anduin. You promised me you'd rest. Not that anyone, not Jacob, not Gilia, not Wrathion, can stop Anduin when he has his mind made up. But he tries, at least, to make sure that he saves some of his strength.
Fair enough. He can read what's being said, enough for the tension to leech out of him once more. A soft chuckle leaves his lips, fingers curling loosely against Jacob's shirt front.
"When did you become the voice of measured reason, and I the impatient one?" he murmurs, with a tinge of wry amusement.
Jacob smiles, feeling Anduin's fingers cling to him so gently, he can't resist bringing his free hand up to curl their hands together.
"I think it happens when you threaten to hurt my king in some way. Overwork him, tire him out, force him to skip meals. The bodyguard in me comes out and I can barely hold him back."
"Mm. I know from experience he's quite daunting. And very resolute in his duties."
Mouth curling higher, Anduin lets out a small breath to relax once more. He knows he's his own worst enemy when it comes to this sort of thing. He shouldn't make it any harder for Jacob than it ought to be.
Perhaps just a few moments to drift, then. Safe in his arms. That would be enough.
Jacob isn't about to agree with that- he's not daunting, he's not frightening, but he does try and give the impression that starting something with him is more hassle than it's worth. Still, he knows it's a compliment, and so he doesn't argue.
Neither does he speak again, knowing that he's likely to make Anduin stir again, and he wants him to get some real rest. So he'll just stay there, stroking his hair with one hand, his other hand entwined with Anduin's own.
They don't need anything else, and for a moment, they both could do with the peace and the quiet.
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Or, in English: I can feel you trying to get up, Anduin. You promised me you'd rest. Not that anyone, not Jacob, not Gilia, not Wrathion, can stop Anduin when he has his mind made up. But he tries, at least, to make sure that he saves some of his strength.
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"When did you become the voice of measured reason, and I the impatient one?" he murmurs, with a tinge of wry amusement.
no subject
"I think it happens when you threaten to hurt my king in some way. Overwork him, tire him out, force him to skip meals. The bodyguard in me comes out and I can barely hold him back."
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Mouth curling higher, Anduin lets out a small breath to relax once more. He knows he's his own worst enemy when it comes to this sort of thing. He shouldn't make it any harder for Jacob than it ought to be.
Perhaps just a few moments to drift, then. Safe in his arms. That would be enough.
no subject
Neither does he speak again, knowing that he's likely to make Anduin stir again, and he wants him to get some real rest. So he'll just stay there, stroking his hair with one hand, his other hand entwined with Anduin's own.
They don't need anything else, and for a moment, they both could do with the peace and the quiet.