[The gramophone and the waltz it's playing is a pleasant surprise upon his return, and he glances at it curiously. It's a good sign, he thinks. Music, he thinks, always is. Music serves no practical purpose, not in and of itself; music is nourishment for the same part of people that Ben's stories speak to, he thinks. He hopes.
She smiles, and his theory remains unchallenged to his knowledge. He doesn't smile back, but only because he doesn't smile. She's off kilter, but he makes a note of it, and thinks they all are. Thinks it would be worse not to be.
He picks up the knife when she puts it down, eyes tracing the path her finger sketches, fingers loose and comfortable around the handle but without intent.]
I understand. It's hollow. [After a moment he pulls the pumpkin closer, sets the point against the waxy skin. Presses it through, carefully and smoothly, until he feels it give and starts to cut the circle as instructed. His attention remains on what his hands are doing, pressure and counter point, the harmless preparations of gutting a vegetable.] This is something all civilians do? This is... normal?
[ Spam ]
She smiles, and his theory remains unchallenged to his knowledge. He doesn't smile back, but only because he doesn't smile. She's off kilter, but he makes a note of it, and thinks they all are. Thinks it would be worse not to be.
He picks up the knife when she puts it down, eyes tracing the path her finger sketches, fingers loose and comfortable around the handle but without intent.]
I understand. It's hollow. [After a moment he pulls the pumpkin closer, sets the point against the waxy skin. Presses it through, carefully and smoothly, until he feels it give and starts to cut the circle as instructed. His attention remains on what his hands are doing, pressure and counter point, the harmless preparations of gutting a vegetable.] This is something all civilians do? This is... normal?