02. Touch
Jarlaxle stared quietly at the sleeping assassin.
He didn't feel like beginning his reverie just yet; it was too early for his tastes, considering he needed less rest than his friend. So he entertained himself by thinking about this and that while staring off in the distance. It just so happened the "distance" his gaze traveled to was his snoozing companion, laying on his back, chest slowly rising and falling. It was difficult to make out the exact details of his face from this angle and distance, even with the dark vision the drow naturally possessed.
Staring at Artemis proved to be even more of a distraction, breaking his thoughts again and again, until he finally gave up and let his feet silently take him to the man's bedside for a better look.
It was really quite calming to look at Artemis', for once, peaceful face. Any wrinkle that wasn't the permanent kind had smoothed away, leaving his expression neutral and relaxed. His brows weren't furrowed, his eyes weren't glaring, his mouth wasn't forming a thin line. Just... peace and calm.
Seeing such a non-hostile expression on his friend made the drow want to reach out and caress that face. Press his fingers against his cheeks, trace his jaw, maybe ghost over his lower lip. Definitely brush that little lock of hair to the side, even if, technically, it was perfectly fine and nonirritating where it was. It was just irresistible, screaming at him to brush it to the side just for the sake of doing so.
"What do you want?" Entreri suddenly mumbled, nearly making Jarlaxle jump out of his skin.
Apparently his friend wasn't quite as asleep as it had seemed, which in hindsight shouldn't have been surprising in the least. However, the man made no attempt to get up; apparently he knew they weren't in danger and didn't plan on properly waking up unless there was a good reason.
Might as well push his luck then.
"Honestly? I was thinking of touching your face", Jarlaxle answered, half whispering for the sake of not being of any more disturbance than necessary. The answer disturbed the peace a little though, since a small frown formed on Entreri's features.
"What."
"Your face. I want to place my fingers on it", the drow repeated, making sure to keep his voice neutral and quiet. Don't enrage the sleeping dragon, so to speak.
"Why the hell do you-" Entreri began, but seemed to change his mind. He sighed and shook his head in exasperation, "Let me sleep. You have plenty of time to be a moron during daytime."
"Pardon me, but I'm never a moron", Jarlaxle said slightly indignantly and crossed his arms.
After a moment Entreri sighed again, "Fine. Have at it."
Jarlaxle opened his mouth to argue, then blinked in confusion and stared instead, mouth still gaping open before he gathered his wits again.
"What?"
"I will get rid of you faster this way. Touch my face and scram", Entreri said and seemed to relax again, or at least the frown from his forehead softened.
Jarlaxle still couldn't believe his pointy ears. Did he just get permission to...?
He would probably have his fingers broken tomorrow if he took the bait.
Good thing he owned a healing orb.
The drow smiled so brightly he could have lit up the whole room with its radiance. He leaned over and very gently brushed his ebony fingers against the half-sleeping assassin's cheek. The skin felt rough with the faintest stubble, but that did little to quell Jarlaxle's bliss. He felt his way down the cheek to the man's jaw, slid his fingers over the small goatee and brushed the other cheek with his thumb. He very deliberately brushed the side of his forefinger against Artemis' lip when he moved his hand away, making it seem like an accident. Then he gently moved that little lock of hair he had spotted on the man's forehead earlier to the side, making sure to touch his ear briefly in the process, even if the lock of hair wasn't long enough to go behind it.
Then, regretfully, he pulled his hand away and straightened. Artemis hadn't moved during the process at all, but he probably wasn't back to sleep yet either and certainly wouldn't tolerate this kind of thing for much longer. If Jarlaxle wanted to have a chance to do anything like this again in the future, he had better not push the limits this time.
"Good night, my friend", Jarlaxle whispered, "and thank you."
He tiptoed back to his own bed, where he spent the next ten minutes staring at his own fingers and wondering if he really felt faint tingling or if that was just his imagination.
