William blinks, surprised. He glances up at her, retracts his feet back to his person, stretching exercises apparently falling to the wayside. Internally, his reflexes are good: somebody taught him something of basic telepathic defense, the fact that fighting back a thought direct is the best way to rear it in greater and greater strength. So he attends to the present, instead: the sturdy, aerodynamic lines of her armor as he stands up, the feel of the floor under his shoes, the quality of light coming down her hair.
Of course, it only works for about five seconds before the word leaks out, self-conscious, more than a little paranoid, and for good reason:
demon] Wha-- [he lifts a finger, scuffs a backward boot, catching the thought even as it's said. It'd be funny, if she couldn't smell the fear crawling off him rancid and real.] --but not like that. Bloody Hell, ma'am, ain't nothing like a telepath, is there? He's-- not evil. He's, uh.
A friend. [It's close to the truth, no intent to lie. In his mind, Guangtou rolls over like a dog waiting scratches, wallowing comfortably in the walls of William's head. Peers at Anderson upside-down. A vague presence, still; nothing violent, nothing clear. No clean line of communication, certainly, even if she would want one.]
no subject
William blinks, surprised. He glances up at her, retracts his feet back to his person, stretching exercises apparently falling to the wayside. Internally, his reflexes are good: somebody taught him something of basic telepathic defense, the fact that fighting back a thought direct is the best way to rear it in greater and greater strength. So he attends to the present, instead: the sturdy, aerodynamic lines of her armor as he stands up, the feel of the floor under his shoes, the quality of light coming down her hair.
Of course, it only works for about five seconds before the word leaks out, self-conscious, more than a little paranoid, and for good reason:
demon] Wha-- [he lifts a finger, scuffs a backward boot, catching the thought even as it's said. It'd be funny, if she couldn't smell the fear crawling off him rancid and real.] --but not like that. Bloody Hell, ma'am, ain't nothing like a telepath, is there? He's-- not evil. He's, uh.
A friend. [It's close to the truth, no intent to lie. In his mind, Guangtou rolls over like a dog waiting scratches, wallowing comfortably in the walls of William's head. Peers at Anderson upside-down. A vague presence, still; nothing violent, nothing clear. No clean line of communication, certainly, even if she would want one.]