i used to think i was wrong
"It just has to do with suggestion," is how He Ming tried to explain it. But since Kristoph still doesn't believe him, then fine, he'll put his hobby to good use.
When Kristoph is lifting his cup and taking a drink, He Ming reaches out, grasping Kristoph's wrist, tugging it towards himself to interrupt him. He continues in an even rhythm, voice smooth and calm for once to draw Kristoph into the suggestions. "I'm not saying I can make you do anything you really don't want to do." He could probably build up to that later. For now, though, he just needs Kristoph to listen and open his mind to his words.
He releases his wrist after a moment and continues to speak.
"There's a path I want you to go down in your head. Okay?"
When Kristoph is lifting his cup and taking a drink, He Ming reaches out, grasping Kristoph's wrist, tugging it towards himself to interrupt him. He continues in an even rhythm, voice smooth and calm for once to draw Kristoph into the suggestions. "I'm not saying I can make you do anything you really don't want to do." He could probably build up to that later. For now, though, he just needs Kristoph to listen and open his mind to his words.
He releases his wrist after a moment and continues to speak.
"There's a path I want you to go down in your head. Okay?"
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"Stay where you are." He Ming gets out of his seat opposite him at his kitchen table, scooting around the edge of it to stand behind Kristoph and his chair. "Let me touch you. It's just like the water."
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"Do you like it when people touch you?" he asks after a moment. Kristoph wears so many layers normally; He Ming is fascinated by the way he looks so exposed and he runs one hand, exploratory, over his skin. He slides it under his shirt to touch even more, fingers curling around his hip.