Verso arches an eyebrow at the explanation. (He is, in fact, far more familiar with chroma than the rest of the expedition; but he won’t mention it. It’s not exactly a realm of expertise he can safely discuss without tipping his hand.)
“Of course I eat dinner, it’s not like I’m inhuman,” he says, with a huff of joking fake affront. “But thank you.”
He accepts the plate and moves to sit down on a convenient nearby log, plate balanced against his knees. One hand absentmindedly rubs at the black inkstain on his wrist.
“How are the others?” he asks. Maybe a little nervous to be asking. He’s been giving them space and time and distance, holding himself apart and letting them come to him rather than forcing himself on the expeditioners too fast too soon. Letting some of the hotter tempers subside. (He’s still considering, perhaps, if it’s time to scrap this attempt and abandon them and try again next year. The jury’s still out.)
no subject
“Of course I eat dinner, it’s not like I’m inhuman,” he says, with a huff of joking fake affront. “But thank you.”
He accepts the plate and moves to sit down on a convenient nearby log, plate balanced against his knees. One hand absentmindedly rubs at the black inkstain on his wrist.
“How are the others?” he asks. Maybe a little nervous to be asking. He’s been giving them space and time and distance, holding himself apart and letting them come to him rather than forcing himself on the expeditioners too fast too soon. Letting some of the hotter tempers subside. (He’s still considering, perhaps, if it’s time to scrap this attempt and abandon them and try again next year. The jury’s still out.)