He is restless. Always plotting some mischief on the outside, he is only every restless at his core when he has nothing to occupy both his outward mind and his inner mind. It would be a mistake to believe that Shigure is shallow and foolish.
He paces endlessly up and down my consulting room. His mouth is running on about something pointless and frivolous, but the wheel of his mind is only turning one direction. He wants something to grab the attention of that inner mind that is so quick and so sharp that it bores easily with the everyday, the mundane.
It has been many years now since I have entertained the thought of rekindling what we shared as young men. But the idea comes to me now. It always perplexed him, distressed him, but excited him as well. So forbidden but so reasonable as well. How closely related are we really? Not close enough for us to have ever even met had it not been for this curse.
Dragon, indeed. That stings a bit, still.
He continues to pace and I lean forward in my chair, making the distance between us a fraction smaller. On his next pass, the hand closest to me is in the pocket of his black trousers and not easy to access. But the other is not so encased. He turns, still chattering and gesturing slightly with that one hand that isn't causing his pants to pull even tighter across his backside and thighs.
I grab his hand, arresting his motion on his next pass. Threading my fingers through his slowly our palms make full contact before I close my fingers around the back of his hand. It is cool to the touch, slender enough to feel his bones through his skin shifting under the pressure of my own digits. He responds as if the years have been nothing at all.
At last, we both have occupation for body and mind.