A few pounds on his fragile frame means eating, means actually paying attention to something other than his work for more than two minutes, and that always invites dark thoughts he'd rather not attend. Sitting alone at a table allows for too much time to mull things over, and when it comes right down to it, perhaps Encke's right. Perhaps he's broken, because he sure as hell doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts for longer than it takes to stave off abject starvation. It's easy enough to blame it on the dismal Sleipnir gruel under normal circumstances, but if Keeler can't even stomach more than a few bites of exquisite Proxima fare, then maybe he really does have a problem.
So he'll try. For Encke's peace of mind, if nothing else, he'll try. Teeth scrape at Encke's fingertips as Keeler accepts the offered chocolate, and he sighs as he allows it a moment to rest on his tongue. There's an edge of warning to Encke's tone, and Keeler hasn't quite decided whether or not that's to do with some deeper question of control. And again, Keeler is struck with the notion that if Encke's trying to exercise some battle of domination over Keeler, he's selected the wrong opponent. On an interpersonal level, there isn't much Keeler could care about less.
Of course, it could be genuine concern for his safety and health, and that possibility is more baffling still.
In any case, med ward admission isn't a threat Keeler weighs lightly. With a dour frown, he snatches another chocolate from Encke after the first, and offers an edgy glare as he nibbles the corner of it.
"'course I do, Daddy," and at that, Keeler's tongue peeks out to catch a bit of stray cocoa from his lips. "Much as you love shoving them, I'd wager."
no subject
So he'll try. For Encke's peace of mind, if nothing else, he'll try. Teeth scrape at Encke's fingertips as Keeler accepts the offered chocolate, and he sighs as he allows it a moment to rest on his tongue. There's an edge of warning to Encke's tone, and Keeler hasn't quite decided whether or not that's to do with some deeper question of control. And again, Keeler is struck with the notion that if Encke's trying to exercise some battle of domination over Keeler, he's selected the wrong opponent. On an interpersonal level, there isn't much Keeler could care about less.
Of course, it could be genuine concern for his safety and health, and that possibility is more baffling still.
In any case, med ward admission isn't a threat Keeler weighs lightly. With a dour frown, he snatches another chocolate from Encke after the first, and offers an edgy glare as he nibbles the corner of it.
"'course I do, Daddy," and at that, Keeler's tongue peeks out to catch a bit of stray cocoa from his lips. "Much as you love shoving them, I'd wager."