solxils​

 For a few moments, his eyes had been trying to read what he was doing on the screen, eyes quickly scanning what he could. A hand is placed lightly on the Navigator’s shoulder, hoping to not scare the younger as he had previously. With a soft gaze and equal smile, he speaks.

                           “How are the new set encryptions coming, Abel? Any sort of trouble?”

solxils:

   He doesn’t believe him for a second, but it would be far too disrespectful to suddenly call him a liar. He momentarily thought about going to the medic and see if he could make Keeler rest..but then it would be painfully obvious who was the one who reported it. 

    “Pardon if I’m speaking out of term but..you’re really not looking well. I know you say you always look this way, but I know what you look on an up day” - if the seemingly sick leader had up days - “I just don’t want you to over exhaust yourself if you’re sick, sir.”

          Keeler’s look softens, then, and he regards Abel with something akin to compassion––––perhaps even APPRECIATION. Still… while he’s grateful that Abel’s so observant––––it says a lot of things about him, and all of them good––––he doesn’t want anybody worrying about him. If he doesn’t want it from Encke, then he CERTAINLY doesn’t want it from his juniors; he doesn’t want to be the one whose condition jeopardises crew faith in the mission, after all. He’ll keep on keeping on, even at great personal cost––––he knew what he was getting himself into when he joined the Alliance.

          ( ––––Didn’t he ? )

          ❝ It’s probably just a cold coming on. You’re not speaking out of turn, Abel, but you really are getting yourself quite worked up over nothing !! ❞ Lt. Keeler, master of the ARTFUL DODGE. It takes him less than a minute to make his first proper attempt to redirect the conversation. ❝ Are YOU all right, yourself ? It seems to me that I remember Cook telling me you’ve been keeping rather long hours… !! ❞

solxils:

   Admitting he himself was exhausted from working over time was something the Navigator wasn’t going to do either, so Cain asking him to sleep actually helped on his side. He gives a light shrug to his statement before yawning widely against his chest before settling down snugly again, staring tiredly up at him. He did normally fight, but he was wiped out and it was a surprise he hadn’t fallen asleep before then.

   “Yeah, well, don’t get use to it.” He mumbled, wrapping his arm around the sturdy chest of his Fighter.

     They were both a stubborn pair, which was likely the reason that

     the two were compatible in the first place, but Cain recognizes

     that this is…different. He doesn’t fully grasp it, the concept not

     wrapped around his brain, but Cain does sense the weird, strange,

     unfamiliarity about all of this. He’ll be damned if he lets this

     become ruined because of some weird feeling. Having Abel in

     such a soft position was preferable anyway.

     Calloused fingers trace his side carefully, holding the other until

     he finds himself smirking, the common feature Cain throws at

     Abel. “Fighting words. You’re hot, sweetheart.”

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