Stinging disappointment combines with a leaden feeling in his gut when she moves away from him. So ironic that he goes so long hiding what he is, only to be disbelieved when he finally does tell the truth. But what else could he expect? What else can he do?
"A púca," he murmurs in response to her question. "A horse-fey. Irish, hence the accent." A wry humor overtakes him. "I suppose I could turn into a horse to convince you, but that would be rather hard on your flooring." Leaning forward, he braces one elbow on his knee and rests his forehead on the heel of his hand. "Or I could show you what my eyes really look like. Though how that's supposed to convince you when your hand didn't, I don't know ..."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-09-15 01:52 am (UTC)"A púca," he murmurs in response to her question. "A horse-fey. Irish, hence the accent." A wry humor overtakes him. "I suppose I could turn into a horse to convince you, but that would be rather hard on your flooring." Leaning forward, he braces one elbow on his knee and rests his forehead on the heel of his hand. "Or I could show you what my eyes really look like. Though how that's supposed to convince you when your hand didn't, I don't know ..."