Thread: Kryptonite (Belle and Father)

Jessie took in a very slow breath as she saw some minor changes in his features. His eyes softened from being so narrow, his shoulders eased from their tense stiffness. She wasn't entirely sure what to do and then she saw him lift his hand and heard the words he spoke. Then it was her posture that changed. She could feel the tension uncoiling in her shoulders like tight iron wires coming undone. Her hazel eyes slowly widened in shock. The idea of reaching out to take his hand was suddenly daunting, as though he was asking her to reach forward and touch fire itself. Or - which was perhaps the more apt metaphor - touch the divine. To touch and to know the name of the closest thing to a God that Jessie permitted herself to believe in. And yet it was also the offering of an implicit promise - she had risked it all for him and in doing so he was offering her a place on his side of whatever line stood between him and the fear of Metropolis. It was by no means the winning team or the easier choice...but refusing never even crossed her mind. Instead she reached forward and took his hand. His skin was warm - warmer than Jessie had felt anyone hands be - and his finger tips calloused. This was not the marble touch one might associate with a divine like visage. No. The touch of his skin was tangible, surprisingly earthly and beyond all else...very real. Her fingers, which she was sure had to feel weak and a little shakey, gripped around his hand with a surprising amount of confidence and assurance that came from a deep conviction that she had made the right choice. Heman, she repeated and nodded as a smile spread across her features, I like it. Right, she thought, because he gives a damn about that. My name is Jessamine Olson, but please just call me 'Jessie'. Only one person constantly called her Jessamine and that was Editor Lane, even though Jessie had asked her plenty of times to call her Jessie, Editor Lane seemed to refuse and the way her voice sounded out Jessie's name made it sound like a nonchalant slap to the ego. When he mentioned the tea she smiled brightly. Yeah, sure, she said as she finally let his hand go and turned towards the kitchen cabinets by her little fridge. Getting up on her tip toes she opened the cabinet and pulled out a larger mug - some might call it a soup mug, but Jessie referred to it as a 'Monday' mug - and set it down on the counter. Would you like some almond milk in your tea? she offered. She adhered to what he said and then brought him the tea, carefully handing the mug to him. She couldn't help another smirk at herself when she said. Careful, it's hot. And once he had taken it she reached for her own mug. Do you want to sit down? she asked as she turned and walked past him, carrying the calming scent of her jasmine scented shampoo, as she went and sat on the couch in her makeshift living room that faced a medium sized television. Once settled she looked up at him and hesitated a moment, biting down on her bottom lip, before she asked, so...what do you know about where you come from? Her voice was calm, caring, and curious - hardly the harsh, demanding tone he must have expected when asked that same question.