It had been a while since he'd come to see Oakley, at least Reynard felt as if it might have been. He had never been the best at keeping track of time. Why bother? It was only ever relevant when he saw others again after a while. he knew Oakley had been young last he'd seen him, young in spirit, he wondered whether that still held true.
Wondered a couple of things about him, honestly. There had been something about him, clearly, or he'd not be remembering him so clearly, not still think of him now. The details, those were harder to recall. When had he first met him? He wasn't quite sure. How had that felt? That he knew. First time, second time, times after. There was a draw now, an eagerness as he made his way past guards. It was night-time, who watched for a fox rushing by in the shadows? No one saw him down the hallways either. No one noticed him at all, not until he changed shape so he could stand by a door, sure that Oakley was behind it. He had keen senses, after all. He knocked his knuckles against the wood, arching his eyebrows when he noticed. Oak. Huh. Somebody was paying attention to details. Fun.
It wasn't often that he got visitors in such a manner, he didn't have such an informal life that friends would just 'stop by' and come to see him. Also, to be blunt, he didn't have friends. He didn't really want friends either - seemed like hard work. Lots of sharing and caring, not enough benefits for him and just all around a terrible idea. Reynard was different - there was a very clear benefit for him there. No obligations or expectations, just fun. And that was often where his priority lay, despite how annoying his father may have found it.
He knew it was Reynard, just from the feeling. Something wild had started to stir in him and it was exciting - had to be Reynard. He opened the door and left it open as he waited for Reynard to come in and greet him properly. "You took a long, long time visiting. And you didn't even write to me or send me something sweet. How cruel."
"Cruel for you? You'd think so. That's quite the selfish view to take, isn't it?" Reynard moved into the room, past Oakley, but only to immediately turn again and step too close. It wasn't about disrespecting his private space, he simply assumed his private space as his own to invade, should he see fit, and his arms slid around Oakley's waist as he sought out his eyes. It felt right, this way, he felt he belonged. "Here I was, out and about, thinking of you and that age-old wisdom, how absence makes the heart grow fonder. So I had to stay away, didn't I? And how could I risk sending reminders, lest they made your heart waver?"
He ducked his head, pressing it against his chest, smiling a hopeful smile that stole its way into his voice. "How fond is your heart now? Please don't let it all have been for nought. How could my heart take that?"
"You think yourself very charming, don't you?" Well, he was. Very charming indeed. He hated that he loved that about Reynard and he hated that it worked every damn time but it did. Not that he could let on, that'd make the game too easy. He had to stay aloof and distant, to try and crush down that feeling so he could better keep control. He was the prince, after all - that entitled him to control. "I think absence made my heart too fickle. I much prefer close contact, I like to see the people I love. Feel them. Be with them."
He pulled away and tried to deny to himself how hard it was, crossing his arms as he looked at Reynard, hoping to fend off any more close contact or he'd soon give in. "You should be kinder to me. Did you bring me anything pretty at least? I do like gifts. Perhaps I'd forgive you if you got me something nice... or did you just bring yourself?"
"Am I not nice?" Reynard took a step back, so that the distance between them could seem as if it was his idea as well, the look on his face clearly offended. "And then... 'just', he says. As if myself is nothing much. Your tongue is skilled as ever, my prince, you cut right to the quick."
He shook his head, as if processing this kind of hurt needed a moment. Then he sighed, deeply, used all fingers to brush them through his hair and get said hair out of his face, suddenly smiling again. "Luck would have it, thought, that I have brought you something. Perhaps even more than just one thing. Is that enough to be worthy of your presence then? Am I worthy of a smile?"
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Wondered a couple of things about him, honestly. There had been something about him, clearly, or he'd not be remembering him so clearly, not still think of him now. The details, those were harder to recall. When had he first met him? He wasn't quite sure. How had that felt? That he knew. First time, second time, times after. There was a draw now, an eagerness as he made his way past guards. It was night-time, who watched for a fox rushing by in the shadows? No one saw him down the hallways either. No one noticed him at all, not until he changed shape so he could stand by a door, sure that Oakley was behind it. He had keen senses, after all. He knocked his knuckles against the wood, arching his eyebrows when he noticed. Oak. Huh. Somebody was paying attention to details. Fun.
no subject
He knew it was Reynard, just from the feeling. Something wild had started to stir in him and it was exciting - had to be Reynard. He opened the door and left it open as he waited for Reynard to come in and greet him properly. "You took a long, long time visiting. And you didn't even write to me or send me something sweet. How cruel."
no subject
He ducked his head, pressing it against his chest, smiling a hopeful smile that stole its way into his voice. "How fond is your heart now? Please don't let it all have been for nought. How could my heart take that?"
no subject
He pulled away and tried to deny to himself how hard it was, crossing his arms as he looked at Reynard, hoping to fend off any more close contact or he'd soon give in. "You should be kinder to me. Did you bring me anything pretty at least? I do like gifts. Perhaps I'd forgive you if you got me something nice... or did you just bring yourself?"
no subject
He shook his head, as if processing this kind of hurt needed a moment. Then he sighed, deeply, used all fingers to brush them through his hair and get said hair out of his face, suddenly smiling again. "Luck would have it, thought, that I have brought you something. Perhaps even more than just one thing. Is that enough to be worthy of your presence then? Am I worthy of a smile?"