His chances of getting off easy, here, are dwindling fast - but he manages not to let any more of his unease show through his minorly successful attempt at cool, careful neutrality. ]
...I wasn't hungry.
[ And though he might've been, a moment ago - regretting the stupid, stubborn impetus that drove him to skip eating so early, in the first place - he isn't now, either. He isn't used to feeling queasy, but somehow the sensation strikes him as unpleasantly familiar, just the same.
Like so very many other things that remind him of nothing in particular, though, he sets this meaningless association aside for no further contemplation and through a small force of effort turns back to the task at hand.
Or, more importantly, hiding the weapon in his hand. The knuckles are too small to possibly be for his own use - not that he has any intention of trying to horn in on her area of expertise, one to avoid hand-to-hand when he can - but the same thing that makes them so obviously not for him makes them easy to conceal, for the moment. As long as she doesn't ask him to move away from the railing.
Angling another sidelong glance in her direction, he stands a little straighter as he risks exposing his tentative offering long enough to lift one hand and drag it back through his hair. ]
nah, cumulative's cheating! I need to come by this honestly
His chances of getting off easy, here, are dwindling fast - but he manages not to let any more of his unease show through his minorly successful attempt at cool, careful neutrality. ]
...I wasn't hungry.
[ And though he might've been, a moment ago - regretting the stupid, stubborn impetus that drove him to skip eating so early, in the first place - he isn't now, either. He isn't used to feeling queasy, but somehow the sensation strikes him as unpleasantly familiar, just the same.
Like so very many other things that remind him of nothing in particular, though, he sets this meaningless association aside for no further contemplation and through a small force of effort turns back to the task at hand.
Or, more importantly, hiding the weapon in his hand. The knuckles are too small to possibly be for his own use - not that he has any intention of trying to horn in on her area of expertise, one to avoid hand-to-hand when he can - but the same thing that makes them so obviously not for him makes them easy to conceal, for the moment. As long as she doesn't ask him to move away from the railing.
Angling another sidelong glance in her direction, he stands a little straighter as he risks exposing his tentative offering long enough to lift one hand and drag it back through his hair. ]
Were you worried?