[And now it's his turn to stare at Victor, level, slightly unamused, a slight lifting of his eyebrow: really, Victor?]
But of course.
[He wouldn't, doesn't need that reminder, and they both know it. But still. Still, he makes inane chatter as she talks about poetry (what nonsense, poetry, poetry is in the way Victor moves, the way he strikes that ball, that core which he refuses to hide and likely can't hide, in that vital something which Eli wants to take and break) and he pretends to listen. He stares, a bit hard. She says something, sensing his attention drifting from him to somewhere else, an inevitable pull.
The moon and the tides.]
You're better than I thought you'd be. [This is begrudgingly said, but like knows like, and skill knows skill. It would be more inane to pretend otherwise.]
no subject
But of course.
[He wouldn't, doesn't need that reminder, and they both know it. But still. Still, he makes inane chatter as she talks about poetry (what nonsense, poetry, poetry is in the way Victor moves, the way he strikes that ball, that core which he refuses to hide and likely can't hide, in that vital something which Eli wants to take and break) and he pretends to listen. He stares, a bit hard. She says something, sensing his attention drifting from him to somewhere else, an inevitable pull.
The moon and the tides.]
You're better than I thought you'd be. [This is begrudgingly said, but like knows like, and skill knows skill. It would be more inane to pretend otherwise.]