If there is some small flickering reservation for Soon. Not yet, it is lost in the sway of the lamplight from overhead. Instead, he busies himself with leaning up to snag the coat folded across the back of the desk chair. He checks its pockets and, satisfied with what he does or doesn't find in them, turns it open in preparation of pulling it on though allows it to rest briefly there across his bent knee rather than rise to shrug into it.

There are minutes yet before there will be any need for him on deck. And though this bears little resemblance to some loose stitch ready to pop - for if Silver had seen fit to mention to her at all, then he must be as confident in his decisions today as he had been then; if she is here discussing it, then today at least is seems viable; and if he is sitting here--

Goes without saying. But altogether it is a wrinkle, and in need of ironing.