[He waits until she is seated fully before he drops her hand and steps back to circle around to his own side of the table, setting his fingertips on the table and lowering himself to sitting, knees bent to the side for the low cant of it. Yes, he is aware, but he's not- looking. Not digging. He valued his own privacy and he valued hers, more than she did most likely, and the temptation to take the simple road- to tailor his own actions and his own words based on her reactions would be too great if he did not draw another line for himself. , he can sense her discomfort, and he is not so foolish to be unaware of the possible reasons. They had not done this for some time. It had been- some small controlled thing that he had clung to, when they had been more than two, and when the station was only a temporary respite from the storm. With just them, always here, what had been the point? She had not been the broodmate most fond of the ceremony. Still, he did not think she missed them as he did- not quite the same. She hadn't lost them the way that he had. Still
Dwelling- distracting. This was not his purpose here. He clears his throat lightly, looking up from the collection of ceramic and brass, carefully expectant that she meet his eyes, pretending that the swirling of her mind less real than the swirling of scented smoke.]
Thank you for coming. With your permission- [It is formal, structured, but he does not wait before he reaches out to pick up the first of the necessary dishes, setting the low wide saucer in front of him and reaching for the small jars of tea, their little tongs.]
no subject
, he can sense her discomfort, and he is not so foolish to be unaware of the possible reasons. They had not done this for some time. It had been- some small controlled thing that he had clung to, when they had been more than two, and when the station was only a temporary respite from the storm. With just them, always here, what had been the point? She had not been the broodmate most fond of the ceremony. Still, he did not think she missed them as he did- not quite the same. She hadn't lost them the way that he had.
Still
Dwelling- distracting. This was not his purpose here. He clears his throat lightly, looking up from the collection of ceramic and brass, carefully expectant that she meet his eyes, pretending that the swirling of her mind less real than the swirling of scented smoke.]
Thank you for coming. With your permission- [It is formal, structured, but he does not wait before he reaches out to pick up the first of the necessary dishes, setting the low wide saucer in front of him and reaching for the small jars of tea, their little tongs.]
You have been busy?