[ it's funny, or it would be if david could think about it that way, that the same is very much true for him. evan's the only person who's ever challenged him like this, pushed against his control in a way that wasn't just for show. a constant source of frustration that pings at the back of his skull when things are done with and he's making the journey back; how much ground he feels like he's given up, how he feels like he's constantly fighting and losing to claw some of that back. ]
[ it's the reason the hand around his throat always sets off something combative in him. well-- part of the reason, but he doesn't acknowledge the rest of it. it's enough anyway that when he tilts his head up it's with a glare and a curled lip, but not a fight. he reaches to curl a fist in the front of evan's waders and pull him closer again, slides a hand over his hip, under the worn leather to flatten a palm against his side, push it up around to his back to feel him out the same way in return. the way he always likes to. ]
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[ it's the reason the hand around his throat always sets off something combative in him. well-- part of the reason, but he doesn't acknowledge the rest of it. it's enough anyway that when he tilts his head up it's with a glare and a curled lip, but not a fight. he reaches to curl a fist in the front of evan's waders and pull him closer again, slides a hand over his hip, under the worn leather to flatten a palm against his side, push it up around to his back to feel him out the same way in return. the way he always likes to. ]