𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐃

⠀⠀ He adjusts the bowtie, clearing his throat. “No objections. May need ... for assessment purposes,” the alien adds, flustered. “When did you learn how to ...” A beat, borderline sheepish, “... too personal?” ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ `` clara .ᐟ `` wide grin . `` long time , no see . `` ⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ i've seen 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. i've seen 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘦 and 𝐝͟𝐚͟𝐫͟𝐤͟ 𝐤͟𝐧͟𝐢͟𝐠͟𝐡͟𝐭͟𝐬͟ 𝐟͟𝐚͟𝐥͟𝐥⠀;⠀even then，⠀i accomplish my mission 𝗡𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ His eyes sparkle, touched by the thoughtfulness. He tentatively reaches for the plate, taking a small bite from the biscuit. “... Custardy-tea?” The alien asks, hopeful. ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ tea and biscuits is his speciality — with a drop of custard of course ... or general company would be brilliant! ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ he is feeling a little under the weather today ... not timelord flu this time ... thankfully. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ He shuffles closer, his palm resting over hers. Grounding and protective. A sigh, one of vulnerability though barely noticeable. “... Like?” The alien prompts, voice soft and low. ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ His cheeks tint, weight shifting as he props himself up — elbow pressing into a pillow, palm resting at his cheek, fingers spread apart. A curved finger brushes at her cheek. Ancient eyes flick over every inch of her. “Mhm ... a place to escape — decompress.” ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ He sets the pencil down, grinning warmly at her praise. Mischief dances in his eyes. The alien shifts, rolling onto his back, opening himself up, if she requires further comfort. Above, the fairy lights twinkle amongst the blanket fort. ⠀⠀

He knew that tone, he was in trouble again. He turned his head to look at her. "I got distracted, well actually I got thrown in prison on Baltar three. They thought I robbed a bank!" He just looked at her with those innocent grey, green eyes. It was hard to stay mad at him.

⠀ ⠀⠀ yes , he is . not sure if he got lost or if he's a street kitten though . ⠀⠀