Though Jiang Cheng is a little slow on the uptake for this, unable to comprehend what is happening to process it with any efficiency. Out of the corner of his eye he tracks as Lan Xichen removes his outer robe, the heavy fabric as light and effortless as smoke in Xichen's hands, so much so that the weight of it landing upon Jiang Cheng's shoulders causes him to start. It settles over him so quickly that it still bears Xichen's lingering warmth, smells of wood and wilderness and faintly of incense.
Like home, Jiang Cheng's mind supplies, unbidden. Not home in the physical sense, as it smells nothing of Lotus Pier, but Lan Xichen is newly arrived and thus their world, the place where Jiang Cheng was born and raised, is almost tangible on the familiar fragrance of Gusu Lan's ancestral lands.
By the time Jiang Cheng's mind catches up to his homesick heart and he realizes with growing horror the sheer impropriety of it all—of Xichen disrobing on his behalf, of having the other man's robe placed upon him, of his own sorry state of dress in front of someone so proper, so well respected, everything, all of it—there's nothing he can do but squawk in distress. Caught between trying to return the robe, which is already damp from being on Jiang Cheng's wet person, and trying to clutch it over his... specific indignities.
"I— I'm— I—" he splutters, looking around frantically as though considering escape by water. Finally, he hangs his head and succumbs to Xichen's generosity.
"...it's really not necessary, as I spend most of my time in the water. But. ...thank you for your thoughtfulness, and, ah. ...I apologize if you saw anything disagreeable."
He clears his throat.
"I... happen to know exactly where my clothes are, so. You will have to take my outer robe until I'm able to launder and return this one."
no subject
Like home, Jiang Cheng's mind supplies, unbidden. Not home in the physical sense, as it smells nothing of Lotus Pier, but Lan Xichen is newly arrived and thus their world, the place where Jiang Cheng was born and raised, is almost tangible on the familiar fragrance of Gusu Lan's ancestral lands.
By the time Jiang Cheng's mind catches up to his homesick heart and he realizes with growing horror the sheer impropriety of it all—of Xichen disrobing on his behalf, of having the other man's robe placed upon him, of his own sorry state of dress in front of someone so proper, so well respected, everything, all of it—there's nothing he can do but squawk in distress. Caught between trying to return the robe, which is already damp from being on Jiang Cheng's wet person, and trying to clutch it over his... specific indignities.
"I— I'm— I—" he splutters, looking around frantically as though considering escape by water. Finally, he hangs his head and succumbs to Xichen's generosity.
"...it's really not necessary, as I spend most of my time in the water. But. ...thank you for your thoughtfulness, and, ah. ...I apologize if you saw anything disagreeable."
He clears his throat.
"I... happen to know exactly where my clothes are, so. You will have to take my outer robe until I'm able to launder and return this one."