[ His unhesitating compliance is something she'd expect as a reaction to a gentle request for silence, not a gesture to calm him slightly. There's something different about the way he's watching her, cheek framed by the white stripes of linen over her palm he was so quick to rest against his skin.
Even if his words don't always filter through to her so logically or coherently, she can understand his tone, but with nothing but his slightly distant, slightly focused expression she can't gather anything from him for a moment. In that span of time he looks... regretful, hurt in that blaming manner she's come to recognise and distance from herself. But she can't read him further. Briefly, envy sparks gently in her at his ability to read just about anything from her look when the opposite is impossible-- but then, he hardly ever refrains from speaking his thoughts aloud to her. It isn't incidential, and he is honest with her.
So what did she just see before he covered up sadness and a sting with his usual smile? Perhaps, she thinks, it's the opposite of his outburst just seconds earlier-- slightly hushed, he's retreated into being too careful. Her mouth quirks reflexively, mirroring Claire's smile, almost, watching the solidity of that expression before she turns her hand a little beneath his to lower and align her thumb with his jaw, fingers curled just underneath. The more she can see of his look, the better. As soon as she is convinced of the strength of the atmosphere between them she tilts her head in question. You were here before I woke up? -It isn't open-ended at all, rather a desire for a reiteration of her suspicions. How else would it seem so right to have him sitting there, as though he'd come to own the spot overnight? ]
no subject
Even if his words don't always filter through to her so logically or coherently, she can understand his tone, but with nothing but his slightly distant, slightly focused expression she can't gather anything from him for a moment. In that span of time he looks... regretful, hurt in that blaming manner she's come to recognise and distance from herself. But she can't read him further. Briefly, envy sparks gently in her at his ability to read just about anything from her look when the opposite is impossible-- but then, he hardly ever refrains from speaking his thoughts aloud to her. It isn't incidential, and he is honest with her.
So what did she just see before he covered up sadness and a sting with his usual smile? Perhaps, she thinks, it's the opposite of his outburst just seconds earlier-- slightly hushed, he's retreated into being too careful. Her mouth quirks reflexively, mirroring Claire's smile, almost, watching the solidity of that expression before she turns her hand a little beneath his to lower and align her thumb with his jaw, fingers curled just underneath. The more she can see of his look, the better. As soon as she is convinced of the strength of the atmosphere between them she tilts her head in question. You were here before I woke up? -It isn't open-ended at all, rather a desire for a reiteration of her suspicions. How else would it seem so right to have him sitting there, as though he'd come to own the spot overnight? ]