No matter how engrossing his story -- her story -- is, eventually her stomach manages to get across the need for her to pick up her fork and knife and dig in, and as she listens and eats, her expression goes from surprised to disbelieving to amused to horrified.
But she eats with an obvious appetite, and when he tells her she calls him Mister Saxophone, she smiles a bit, purely in spite of herself.
Mister Saxophone. She kind of likes that.
"And I'm not convinced I'm not dreaming," she adds firmly, but she pushes her empty plate aside and leans her head on both of her hands, seeming a little bit resigned.
She can't help a slight feeling of wariness. It comes too easily after hearing about how some lawyer supposedly faked his death to leave her all his debts. But what Gren just gave her was quite an elaborate a story for something made up just now on the spur of the moment. And it makes a few of the things she remembers from her dream make sense.
Like her own voice talking about her memory coming back.
And how no good came of it.
"Were you avoiding me? Before you ran into me in the hall?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-06-28 07:46 am (UTC)But she eats with an obvious appetite, and when he tells her she calls him Mister Saxophone, she smiles a bit, purely in spite of herself.
Mister Saxophone. She kind of likes that.
"And I'm not convinced I'm not dreaming," she adds firmly, but she pushes her empty plate aside and leans her head on both of her hands, seeming a little bit resigned.
She can't help a slight feeling of wariness. It comes too easily after hearing about how some lawyer supposedly faked his death to leave her all his debts. But what Gren just gave her was quite an elaborate a story for something made up just now on the spur of the moment. And it makes a few of the things she remembers from her dream make sense.
Like her own voice talking about her memory coming back.
And how no good came of it.
"Were you avoiding me? Before you ran into me in the hall?"