[ This sideways glance comes with narrower eyes, an element of are you shitting me, and bounces away as the understanding that he is not being shitted settles in without any further comment required. He's seen the Gallows. Obviously.
Beds. Towering bookshelves. Full plates at dinner. Valued power. Uncrossable perimeters. Unending surveillance. And no stars.
He's thinking. He says— ]
Favorite constellation?
[ —easing back in the meantime. He's pulling out his cigarette case at a leisurely pace, but pulling it out all the same. ]
no subject
Beds. Towering bookshelves. Full plates at dinner. Valued power. Uncrossable perimeters. Unending surveillance. And no stars.
He's thinking. He says— ]
Favorite constellation?
[ —easing back in the meantime. He's pulling out his cigarette case at a leisurely pace, but pulling it out all the same. ]