[ he doesn't answer her for a moment, attention sliding away from her and back up at the sky for several moments. whenever he'd found his focus straying from the practice, he'd tried to make shapes out of the clouds, remaining a mixture of pleased and impressed that it was yet to rain again. in between making shapes — the grander, more complex, more extravagant, the better — he'd attempted to make nonsensical stories linking them all. it hadn't gone quite as well as he'd hoped, but— ]
A spider, perhaps. I'm not entirely sure. [ the remark is uttered somewhat blandly and distractedly, his features momentarily marred by a contemplative frown. ] There was a cloud — long gone and misshapen now — that resembled [ the 'vaguely' is left unsaid. ] a drainpipe. [ a pause; no. a correction: ] It resembled a house, and along the side there was an edge that resembled a drainpipe, and with the way you were darting about—. [ another pause and a shrug, although he looks back to her, slowly and deliberately, the corners of his lips spreading into a slow smile. ] Would you mind if I called you Incy-Wincy? At least until it— [ a loose gesture with his fingers, reminiscent of the actions a child would use when reciting the rhyme. ] —and you resemble a drowned rat.
[ he's well aware it's hardly an insult, and he hadn't intended it to be as such. he might not play himself, he might not understand any of it in terms of rules, but he understands — in a sense — how important it is to her, how it has a way of washing away everything else and leaving a remarkable feeling of contention. it's not something he's overly familiar with himself — that's one of the reasons he reads so much, loses himself in stories and heroes and villains and everyone that isn't him, but he can understand.
(he thinks.)
or at the very least, he finds himself thinking (not for the first time) that the giddiness — there's not really another word for it — suits her. ]
WORDS, GDIT
A spider, perhaps. I'm not entirely sure. [ the remark is uttered somewhat blandly and distractedly, his features momentarily marred by a contemplative frown. ] There was a cloud — long gone and misshapen now — that resembled [ the 'vaguely' is left unsaid. ] a drainpipe. [ a pause; no. a correction: ] It resembled a house, and along the side there was an edge that resembled a drainpipe, and with the way you were darting about—. [ another pause and a shrug, although he looks back to her, slowly and deliberately, the corners of his lips spreading into a slow smile. ] Would you mind if I called you Incy-Wincy? At least until it— [ a loose gesture with his fingers, reminiscent of the actions a child would use when reciting the rhyme. ] —and you resemble a drowned rat.
[ he's well aware it's hardly an insult, and he hadn't intended it to be as such. he might not play himself, he might not understand any of it in terms of rules, but he understands — in a sense — how important it is to her, how it has a way of washing away everything else and leaving a remarkable feeling of contention. it's not something he's overly familiar with himself — that's one of the reasons he reads so much, loses himself in stories and heroes and villains and everyone that isn't him, but he can understand.
or at the very least, he finds himself thinking (not for the first time) that the giddiness — there's not really another word for it — suits her. ]