He turns his head, just slightly, enough for Poe to see a sliver of his expression, eyelash to cheekbone to jawline. "I know what you mean."
If Cassian were another person, he'd have been able to drop the pretense, the studious care that takes the emotion out of his voice. But he's not, and he's done this long enough that, in order to show emotion, he has to fake it. Even if it's real emotion, he has to put it into his voice and his expression on purpose. Except when he's caught off guard, or when it's so strong that he's overwhelmed.
So these words are a bit more carefully neutral than he wants them to be, but there's softness anyway. Softness too in showing his face, not using the fact that he's facing away from Poe.
He breathes in, his eyes closing as he focuses on the touch, and he knows Poe can feel the long inhale as his belly rises. The air in his lungs; and the blood rushes in the veins at his throat, where he can feel Poe's breath. Cassian thinks that intimacy of touch is all in the little movements of the other person, in the awareness of how alive they are.
no subject
If Cassian were another person, he'd have been able to drop the pretense, the studious care that takes the emotion out of his voice. But he's not, and he's done this long enough that, in order to show emotion, he has to fake it. Even if it's real emotion, he has to put it into his voice and his expression on purpose. Except when he's caught off guard, or when it's so strong that he's overwhelmed.
So these words are a bit more carefully neutral than he wants them to be, but there's softness anyway. Softness too in showing his face, not using the fact that he's facing away from Poe.
He breathes in, his eyes closing as he focuses on the touch, and he knows Poe can feel the long inhale as his belly rises. The air in his lungs; and the blood rushes in the veins at his throat, where he can feel Poe's breath. Cassian thinks that intimacy of touch is all in the little movements of the other person, in the awareness of how alive they are.