[Her words are answered with a small, quick smile, there and gone. Yes, she was, sometimes, distracted.
He then turns his attention to his cup, and to a moment of silence that is more companionable than it is anything else, porcelain to the curve of his lip as he takes another shallow drink. The cups are small. There is not much left, and the pot is as near to empty- and already too cold- for him to consider pouring another cup for either of them. Perhaps he feels that question, or perhaps it is simply- obvious. He taps his fingers lightly against the underside of her wrist, even as he glances up over the rim of the cup.
Tap tap.
He turns the cup, a quarter of a turn, to a cool spot on the rim before he takes another drink. It is warmer in contrast, and the tea, as all well-crafted blends, changes in flavor as the temperature shifts. Bringing different undertones to the flavor. Less spice, more citrus, fresher on the tongue. Its scent fills his nose where the sea has abandoned, and it brings with it ancient oiled wood, the game scent of leather, dust, aged craquelure finish and the distant sound of leaves through the trees, huge and towering, ancient and twisting.
Tap tap.
He tips the cup, draining the last of the liquid away. He straightens his shoulders slightly, lifting the cup and touching it lightly to the center of his forehead before settling it very particularly on the table, centered exactly in front of him. And then he waits, very patiently.
no subject
He then turns his attention to his cup, and to a moment of silence that is more companionable than it is anything else, porcelain to the curve of his lip as he takes another shallow drink. The cups are small. There is not much left, and the pot is as near to empty- and already too cold- for him to consider pouring another cup for either of them. Perhaps he feels that question, or perhaps it is simply- obvious. He taps his fingers lightly against the underside of her wrist, even as he glances up over the rim of the cup.
Tap tap.
He turns the cup, a quarter of a turn, to a cool spot on the rim before he takes another drink. It is warmer in contrast, and the tea, as all well-crafted blends, changes in flavor as the temperature shifts. Bringing different undertones to the flavor. Less spice, more citrus, fresher on the tongue. Its scent fills his nose where the sea has abandoned, and it brings with it ancient oiled wood, the game scent of leather, dust, aged craquelure finish and the distant sound of leaves through the trees, huge and towering, ancient and twisting.
Tap tap.
He tips the cup, draining the last of the liquid away. He straightens his shoulders slightly, lifting the cup and touching it lightly to the center of his forehead before settling it very particularly on the table, centered exactly in front of him. And then he waits, very patiently.
Tap tap.]