Flint asks for something more specific but John, for the moment, is full of silent gratitude that his visit hasn't been cut short. Whatever the reception he had anticipated, be it anger, violence or point blank refusal to even open the door to him, he had hoped for time to talk. Had hoped for it before he'd realised he was letting himself run away with the idea. A dangerous place to go.
As the other man seems temporarily willing to suffer his company he does as he's been ordered. Careful as he limps his way to a chair, he props his cane up against the arm and finally sits. He doesn't remove his jacket, doesn't care to presume he knows when he will be outstaying his welcome. But this is... certainly something.
The chair is surprisingly comfortable and gives a good vantage point to watch how Flint moves. John makes the most of the opportunity to observe freely. His gaze sweeps across broad shoulders and down the other man's back in an unhindered path led by curiosity. How does Flint hold himself? Is it the same as before? Does he look unburdened - or at the very least less burdened - of his rage at losing Thomas now that he has the man back? And... where is Thomas?
"What are you reading?" he finally asks, eyes still trained firmly on Flint's back and not shifting away even as he's making a move to turn around. He'd spotted the book as he'd been invited in and, though it's not a specific question about the man's happiness, it is still related. It would have been impossible to work so closely with Flint and not understand how much pleasure books brought him and, apparently, still do.
no subject
As the other man seems temporarily willing to suffer his company he does as he's been ordered. Careful as he limps his way to a chair, he props his cane up against the arm and finally sits. He doesn't remove his jacket, doesn't care to presume he knows when he will be outstaying his welcome. But this is... certainly something.
The chair is surprisingly comfortable and gives a good vantage point to watch how Flint moves. John makes the most of the opportunity to observe freely. His gaze sweeps across broad shoulders and down the other man's back in an unhindered path led by curiosity. How does Flint hold himself? Is it the same as before? Does he look unburdened - or at the very least less burdened - of his rage at losing Thomas now that he has the man back? And... where is Thomas?
"What are you reading?" he finally asks, eyes still trained firmly on Flint's back and not shifting away even as he's making a move to turn around. He'd spotted the book as he'd been invited in and, though it's not a specific question about the man's happiness, it is still related. It would have been impossible to work so closely with Flint and not understand how much pleasure books brought him and, apparently, still do.