[ credence is definitely headstrong, insistent on having his own way all the damn time -- but that's actually what graves comes to like about him. the young man has a brain, a keen sense of self that goes beyond the confines of this family. he's smart, driven, and self-possessed the way most brats aren't, too caught up in the family name to make something of themselves.

but credence, credence is different. the young man smiles at him, those lovely features softening, and graves is acutely aware of how he feels for him, even though he keeps it locked away securely. he gets to see more of credence than even his father does -- the chinks in the armor, the vulnerability and the frustration beyond the icy, withdrawn front that he puts up.

he flicks his lighter, lighting the cigarette up for him with a faint smile of his own. ] Your bad habits flourish on their own without need for my encouragement. [ he responds easily, before credence asks that question, soft and hopeful despite the cigarette dangling from full, lush lips, and graves again stifles the desire to kiss him. ]

That's because they can't control you, and they hate that. [ he says after a moment, raising his eyes to meet his gaze. a part of him misses when credence feels more at ease with him -- more familiar. instead of immediately declining, however, he pauses a moment before he asks. ]

Where would you go?