WHO: Athessa, Madi, and YOU WHAT: post-Dream catch-all WHEN: after part 2 of dream time WHERE: The Gallows/Kirkwall NOTES: tags will be slow, brain still bad
He laughs quietly and at nothing in particular, just more of that ambient pleased. It's warm and pleasant after the terror-tinged anxiety of the morning, and Vanadi will take what he can get.
Which includes his cup of coffee, although he prefers to hold it in both hands for its warmth as he watches Athessa with hers. "Thoroughly," he agrees amiably. "Remind me of that next time I spend too long inside my own head, if you will."
She has to laugh, too, still embarrassed about the repetition, but she nods. She can handle giving him reminders that he has nothing to worry about, so long as he returns the favor.
It's nice, to be able to stand here, partly leaning against him as he leans against the table in turn, sipping coffee and taking comfort in each other's presence — except that the kitchen, even at this hour, sees a fair bit of traffic as the staff bustle in and out trying to do their jobs. Wasn't it nicer, in the dream, when they had their own kitchen to loiter in? There's no specific memory of having the time to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee or a meal or even just each other in the dream, but there's a feeling. Just a feeling.
He feels the strangeness of the lack too — the lack of personal space, of some little corner to call theirs. With Erik, apparently. He's still puzzling over that one. This kitchen feels busy now, which he'd never minded or even much noticed before.
"Right," he agrees, and swirls his very unfinished coffee in its cup. "I'm taking this mug, and it's possible no one here will ever see it again."
He plucks up her hand in his free one, starting forward and giving it a gentle tug of request. Busy kitchen or no, there are still a hundred little nooks and crannies to find solitude in in the Gallows.
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Which includes his cup of coffee, although he prefers to hold it in both hands for its warmth as he watches Athessa with hers. "Thoroughly," he agrees amiably. "Remind me of that next time I spend too long inside my own head, if you will."
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It's nice, to be able to stand here, partly leaning against him as he leans against the table in turn, sipping coffee and taking comfort in each other's presence — except that the kitchen, even at this hour, sees a fair bit of traffic as the staff bustle in and out trying to do their jobs. Wasn't it nicer, in the dream, when they had their own kitchen to loiter in? There's no specific memory of having the time to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee or a meal or even just each other in the dream, but there's a feeling. Just a feeling.
"We probably oughta get out of the way."
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"Right," he agrees, and swirls his very unfinished coffee in its cup. "I'm taking this mug, and it's possible no one here will ever see it again."
He plucks up her hand in his free one, starting forward and giving it a gentle tug of request. Busy kitchen or no, there are still a hundred little nooks and crannies to find solitude in in the Gallows.