Eames smiles at Reynard, usually happy to see him, reaches out to put a hand on his hip to draw him close.
That changes when he hears the questions, glances back at the person he'd been talking to; purple skin that shimmers in the light and an ethereal grace as they move, a beauty he'd be remiss to ignore. They smile when he catches their eye and Eames smiles back before looking back to Reynard. He can tell there's about to be a problem, but he can't tell what or why, and shrugs a shoulder.
"Potentially," he says, "that remains to be seen."
"Is it glamour? I need to be closer to tell, but they seem... a bit much." Whatever he means by that when judging someone walking away he's never even properly looked at. Still, they certainly don't feel right to him.
His focus moves fully to Eames and from looking at him, he moves to kissing his lips. A few seconds and he suddenly ducks his head against his neck, lips parting teeth pressing against skin. He intents to mark him.
"No, I'd have seen through any gl--" he's cut off suddenly by the kiss, not that he objects really. Not in the moment. But this is all a bit much all of a sudden, as he starts to kiss Reynard back he's already moving to his neck. He's trying to decide how he feels about this when he starts to feel the scrape of teeth and puts a hand on Reynard's chest to push him back, shifting away from him at the same time.
"...I felt it was fairly obvious." Honestly, what need was there to explain? "I wanted to taste. So I did. Are you that touchy all of a sudden?"
Obviously, he also knew that that wasn't what Eames was asking about, not really, but when had he ever seen a loophole he wouldn't take to talk himself out of potential trouble? "I'm sorry, precious one. I got carried away. You do know how hard you are to resist, aren't you? I shouldn't be blamed for giving in to my instincts."
Which, admittedly, felt slightly eased now that he was marked. Scented. His. An improvement, without a doubt.
"You know that's not what I was asking." This is the problem with Reynard. One of them. Always has been. As much as he enjoys talking around things and playing with his words, Eames really does value a straightforward answer-- an honest answer. Especially from those he lets in close to him, which for some reason he has Reynard.
Something occurs to him, something that seems so obvious that he'd be surprised at him not thinking of it if not for how absurd it is. He glances in the direction of the fae he'd been speaking to, and then back to Reynard, frowning. "You're not jealous are you?"
"Peculiar question. Whatever would I have to be jealous of? Whoever would I be jealous of? And, perhaps most importantly, whoever do I have to be jealous over?" Because, if anything, Reynard doesn't see Eames as the type to enjoy that possessive streak, which doesn't mean that he's about to rid himself of it - he doubts he could, even if he wanted to - but downplaying it, he can certainly try.
And he can certainly talk things around, or at least attempt to. "You always have been daring, so presumptuous. I don't mind, confidence is very attractive on you. Is it flattering to think that how I feel for you would make me jealous? I suppose it would be... Here I have the whole world and here I am, drawn to you. I see the appeal jealousy would hold."
Taking a step closer, he reaches out to try and put a hand on Eames' arm, to get closer again. At times, his arguments became more convincing with less space between them.
At times, perhaps, but not now. He rolls his eyes as Reynard speaks, obviously not buying it, and maybe he doesn't shrug off the touch, allows him closer, but nothing in him softens. If anything it serves to move him from confusion to genuine anger, jaw clenched and eyes hard.
"Don't." His voice too, is hard, pointed. Low in a way that edges on a growl. "Do you really think so little of me that you believe you can talk me in circles until I think it was all in my head?"
It's true, he hates a possessive nature in a partner, but such a blatant attempt to manipulate him certainly doesn't help. He's not typically someone easy to push to genuine anger, but oh he's there now, and he expects he's only going to get moreso before the night is over.
"I asked you a question, Reynard. If you can't answer it, then you might as well fuck off."
In all honesty, Reynard believed that he could talk anyone in circles until they believed much anything. Past evidence had led him to that belief. However, he was not stupid enough to voice that belief, especially when Eames was already angry with him.
Not that he didn't find that anger quite appealing, as a slight glint in his eyes and his tongue touching his upper lip might perhaps give away as he watched him. He ducked his head at first, then, in a similar display of submission - something he was much better at than any actual submission - he bared his throat to the man, seeking out his eyes.
Perhaps he was enjoying the situation more than he should, but he wouldn't be himself if he wasn't living life on the edge. "I can answer. I did answer, I rather thought. You needn't be so angry with me."
Not that it was a bad look on him. "You do mean a lot to me, precious one, you know that, why else would I keep drifting back? Don't you think you can forgive me for some bad impulses I can't control, given how enjoyable you find so many of my other impulses?"
It's very smart not to voice that, because Eames would probably just leave. At least this way he sticks around, angry as he is. He's not mollified by any of this though, especially not since he can see what this is doing for the other man, that he clearly finds this attractive. Not that it's a surprise.
"An impulse, is it?" He's not buying it, "an impulse makes you think you can possess me? Keep me all to yourself?"
Instantly, Reynard clicked his tongue and shook his head in disagreement. "Of course not. Why would I think that? I'm not so delusional, am I?" He looked at Eames, the very face of sincerity, going with what he felt was true, so that he'd be more believable. he was a good enough liar to appreciate the power truth could hold. "An impulse is making me want to act as if I possess you. It's a play at something, as simple as that. I like to play at a lot of things. Why, the other day, I played at being injured, in order to avoid being injured far worse. I almost got away with it entirely unscathed too."
He shrugged, an almost bashful smile on his face. "Sometimes I pretend to be weaker than I am. Sometimes stronger. Often I pretend to be more innocent... And so, sometimes, an impulse might lead me to pretend to have you. Don't you know what it does to me, your scent mixed with mine? I wish you'd let me show you, it might get to your head to."
"Pretending isn't trying to mark me because you saw me speak to somebody else." Eames isn't one to raise his voice when he's angry, if anything his voice is quieter, pointed and sharp. That doesn't stop people taking notice, but he's decided he doesn't care, shoulders square and focus entirely on Reynard.
It's not that he doesn't get it-- he's a fox, he's a predator, blah blah blah. But he's also a person, and being a person means sometimes you have to curb your instincts, control yourself once in a while. Maybe don't be an obnoxious hypocrite to someone who adores you.
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no subject
That changes when he hears the questions, glances back at the person he'd been talking to; purple skin that shimmers in the light and an ethereal grace as they move, a beauty he'd be remiss to ignore. They smile when he catches their eye and Eames smiles back before looking back to Reynard. He can tell there's about to be a problem, but he can't tell what or why, and shrugs a shoulder.
"Potentially," he says, "that remains to be seen."
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His focus moves fully to Eames and from looking at him, he moves to kissing his lips. A few seconds and he suddenly ducks his head against his neck, lips parting teeth pressing against skin. He intents to mark him.
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"What's going on?"
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Obviously, he also knew that that wasn't what Eames was asking about, not really, but when had he ever seen a loophole he wouldn't take to talk himself out of potential trouble? "I'm sorry, precious one. I got carried away. You do know how hard you are to resist, aren't you? I shouldn't be blamed for giving in to my instincts."
Which, admittedly, felt slightly eased now that he was marked. Scented. His. An improvement, without a doubt.
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Something occurs to him, something that seems so obvious that he'd be surprised at him not thinking of it if not for how absurd it is. He glances in the direction of the fae he'd been speaking to, and then back to Reynard, frowning. "You're not jealous are you?"
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And he can certainly talk things around, or at least attempt to. "You always have been daring, so presumptuous. I don't mind, confidence is very attractive on you. Is it flattering to think that how I feel for you would make me jealous? I suppose it would be... Here I have the whole world and here I am, drawn to you. I see the appeal jealousy would hold."
Taking a step closer, he reaches out to try and put a hand on Eames' arm, to get closer again. At times, his arguments became more convincing with less space between them.
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"Don't." His voice too, is hard, pointed. Low in a way that edges on a growl. "Do you really think so little of me that you believe you can talk me in circles until I think it was all in my head?"
It's true, he hates a possessive nature in a partner, but such a blatant attempt to manipulate him certainly doesn't help. He's not typically someone easy to push to genuine anger, but oh he's there now, and he expects he's only going to get moreso before the night is over.
"I asked you a question, Reynard. If you can't answer it, then you might as well fuck off."
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Not that he didn't find that anger quite appealing, as a slight glint in his eyes and his tongue touching his upper lip might perhaps give away as he watched him. He ducked his head at first, then, in a similar display of submission - something he was much better at than any actual submission - he bared his throat to the man, seeking out his eyes.
Perhaps he was enjoying the situation more than he should, but he wouldn't be himself if he wasn't living life on the edge. "I can answer. I did answer, I rather thought. You needn't be so angry with me."
Not that it was a bad look on him. "You do mean a lot to me, precious one, you know that, why else would I keep drifting back? Don't you think you can forgive me for some bad impulses I can't control, given how enjoyable you find so many of my other impulses?"
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"An impulse, is it?" He's not buying it, "an impulse makes you think you can possess me? Keep me all to yourself?"
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He shrugged, an almost bashful smile on his face. "Sometimes I pretend to be weaker than I am. Sometimes stronger. Often I pretend to be more innocent... And so, sometimes, an impulse might lead me to pretend to have you. Don't you know what it does to me, your scent mixed with mine? I wish you'd let me show you, it might get to your head to."
no subject
It's not that he doesn't get it-- he's a fox, he's a predator, blah blah blah. But he's also a person, and being a person means sometimes you have to curb your instincts, control yourself once in a while. Maybe don't be an obnoxious hypocrite to someone who adores you.