He crooks the leading edge of a grin back at her as he enters, barely there, until he takes note of the empty bed, and closes away into darker consideration. If Ashey Pelt has gone, who will Loxley console himself with finding flowers for after Athessa has blown up in his face?
There is a table. He invites himself to unscroll the leather wrapping across it, with care taken not to tip the viola’s case, or to scatter cards loose of the deck. Fitcher’s blade rests at the hide’s center, exactly as she remembers it -- perhaps a bare shave brighter at the edges, where it’s been given a few passive-aggressively helpful passes across a strop.
He steps away with a glance rather than pass the knife to her directly, giving her space to inspect it without him hovering.
no subject
He crooks the leading edge of a grin back at her as he enters, barely there, until he takes note of the empty bed, and closes away into darker consideration. If Ashey Pelt has gone, who will Loxley console himself with finding flowers for after Athessa has blown up in his face?
There is a table. He invites himself to unscroll the leather wrapping across it, with care taken not to tip the viola’s case, or to scatter cards loose of the deck. Fitcher’s blade rests at the hide’s center, exactly as she remembers it -- perhaps a bare shave brighter at the edges, where it’s been given a few passive-aggressively helpful passes across a strop.
He steps away with a glance rather than pass the knife to her directly, giving her space to inspect it without him hovering.
There are other things here for him to see.