[ her hands pause briefly around the bundle of sticks, stalling like his tongue does around words he never ends up speaking. her eyes flick briefly towards his — not prying, but acknowledging. whether he means for it or not, his silence leaves her to fill in the gaps herself, something she's likely to do in the quiet of the evenings when the world blurs out around her and she's once again left to her own thoughts.
and then there are things he does say that leave her just as perplexed. engrossed. ]
Is something wrong with your body?
[ it's equal parts curiosity and concern, though this time the latter learns more towards the professional side of her. like there might have been something she'd missed in her (admittedly rushed and limited) assessment of him.
there is the way he speaks about it, too, casually and obviously, like it doesn't strike the same kind of oddity in his ears as it does in hers. a disparity in their worlds, perhaps?
the sticks clatter a little when her grip shifts, the cigar bopping lightly in her mouth as she speaks. ]
These are for our dolls. [ she holds out a handful for him, all of varying lengths. oh, did she not mention? ] We're making dolls.
no subject
and then there are things he does say that leave her just as perplexed. engrossed. ]
Is something wrong with your body?
[ it's equal parts curiosity and concern, though this time the latter learns more towards the professional side of her. like there might have been something she'd missed in her (admittedly rushed and limited) assessment of him.
there is the way he speaks about it, too, casually and obviously, like it doesn't strike the same kind of oddity in his ears as it does in hers. a disparity in their worlds, perhaps?
the sticks clatter a little when her grip shifts, the cigar bopping lightly in her mouth as she speaks. ]
These are for our dolls. [ she holds out a handful for him, all of varying lengths. oh, did she not mention? ] We're making dolls.