Oh. [It seems to be a vast understatement, because nothing about that makes sense. The fact that he isn't dead yet doesn't make sense, actually. Nothing about Bruce does -- he's huge and powerful and looms over Miyano like a vengeful god. But he's impossibly gentle, careful, every touch softer than anything the young man's ever known.
He takes the cloak without thinking, almost dropping it when he actually feels the weight. The cloth is richer and more ornate than anything he's ever touched, and it feels comforting around his shoulders, chasing off some of the chill. Miya fastens the cloak, tugs up the hood, one hand staying in place to keep it from covering his face entirely. He means to ask something about where he should travel, if there's a wagon or if he should walk, but instead what comes out is:] You'd want me? To -- be that? Me?
no subject
He takes the cloak without thinking, almost dropping it when he actually feels the weight. The cloth is richer and more ornate than anything he's ever touched, and it feels comforting around his shoulders, chasing off some of the chill. Miya fastens the cloak, tugs up the hood, one hand staying in place to keep it from covering his face entirely. He means to ask something about where he should travel, if there's a wagon or if he should walk, but instead what comes out is:] You'd want me? To -- be that? Me?