[ jayce is caught off guard, to say the least. any miffed kinks in his stressed features relax, his guard comes undone. maybe it was the other man's polite greeting and lack of any, ah . . . well, snobbish sneering or anything. he walks with a limp, a little more to equally prominent to his own without support. viktor even extends his hand, to which, jayce's gaze flits between his eyes and his sooty, callous palms, which he's sure couldn't have gone unnoticed.
hesitant, jayce extends his own slowly, gives a bit of a gesture as if to say, "it's dirty", and leaves actually taking the shake to viktor if he chooses. he's about ready to give up, seeming a touch abashed. which is strange, he doesn’t really care about that. now? he's suddenly hyper aware he smells (and looks) like smoke and horse shit in a room that wafed lilac and lemon shavings. ]
I was, uh— in the middle of something.
[ an unspoken "sorry", if viktor's hand is now printed with the shadow of hard work, fire and dusty iron. so absolutely rough, in contrast. ]
no subject
hesitant, jayce extends his own slowly, gives a bit of a gesture as if to say, "it's dirty", and leaves actually taking the shake to viktor if he chooses. he's about ready to give up, seeming a touch abashed. which is strange, he doesn’t really care about that. now? he's suddenly hyper aware he smells (and looks) like smoke and horse shit in a room that wafed lilac and lemon shavings. ]
I was, uh— in the middle of something.
[ an unspoken "sorry", if viktor's hand is now printed with the shadow of hard work, fire and dusty iron. so absolutely rough, in contrast. ]