His attention flickers briefly to the pages under her hand, and then sweeps back up the length of her arm and to her face. That's fine; though for the record, that side of page two has some rather clever thoughts regarding what the Chantry's role might be at the fighting front line regarding the evident temptation of desertion among the mages working there—
But no matter. Should they bear fruit, he might later say to her 'But of course you recall the night I was working late in the library...'
He shifts his leg absently against the line of her foot. Leans very slightly forward as if to say something in confidence, though surely they have rarely together been so alone as they are now.
"It must be rather a grand one if it's pressured you into such restraint. You won't just satisfy my curiosity?"
Come now, Benevenuta. A little shamelessness hardly kills anyone these days.
“I have never taken you for a curious man, Cassius,” is not something, delivered so amiably to him slightly nearer to her now, that sounds like a criticism besides her habitual disinclination to call him Enchanter and ongoing failure to suggest that he, in turn, simply call her Benevenuta if he'd like. (It is perfectly acceptable to call her Speaker, because the Mortalitasi have not fallen with the Circles. And it is perfectly acceptable to her to call many mages by the defunct titles of the defunct Circles, but not this one.)
The tilt of her head has an air of speculation to it. As if she might in the next breath lean back and frame him with her fingers—
“I rather like it on you. No, I don't know that I shall.”
His tsk of disappointment is one of those played at things, like this is a joke they have shared with one another and not a series of little insults traded with all the effectiveness of trying to bring down a stone wall by flicking bits of gravel at it. Everyone knows there is no progress be to made with the strategy, and yet occasionally the urge to hurl even the smallest stone is a persistent one.
"What a philosophical problem. Is it preferable to be disappointed or disappointing? —I have never taken you for such a theorist."
He has not, in the entire history of their acquaintance, even once corrected her regarding the oversight she gives his title. Why, it has even stopped making his brow wrinkle. Never mind that he might as well sign his letters First Enchanter if he cared to for as long as the previous owner of the Perendale Circle's title sees fit to continue to be missing, presumed dead. That being a fact he rarely has reason to remind much of anyone of—in so many words at the very least.
(Surely it is better in some cases to simply do rather than to put such a fine point on the thing.)
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But no matter. Should they bear fruit, he might later say to her 'But of course you recall the night I was working late in the library...'
He shifts his leg absently against the line of her foot. Leans very slightly forward as if to say something in confidence, though surely they have rarely together been so alone as they are now.
"It must be rather a grand one if it's pressured you into such restraint. You won't just satisfy my curiosity?"
Come now, Benevenuta. A little shamelessness hardly kills anyone these days.
no subject
The tilt of her head has an air of speculation to it. As if she might in the next breath lean back and frame him with her fingers—
“I rather like it on you. No, I don't know that I shall.”
no subject
"What a philosophical problem. Is it preferable to be disappointed or disappointing? —I have never taken you for such a theorist."
He has not, in the entire history of their acquaintance, even once corrected her regarding the oversight she gives his title. Why, it has even stopped making his brow wrinkle. Never mind that he might as well sign his letters First Enchanter if he cared to for as long as the previous owner of the Perendale Circle's title sees fit to continue to be missing, presumed dead. That being a fact he rarely has reason to remind much of anyone of—in so many words at the very least.
(Surely it is better in some cases to simply do rather than to put such a fine point on the thing.)