[ The shift in the room is practically audible – one moment, quiet with dread. The next, chilled and tense, like stepping out in the dead of winter. Faraday drops his gaze, looks off into a corner of the room to avoid looking at Emma.
(Because he knows what he'll see on her face, that look of wide-eyed fear, that reminder of how wrong he is.)
He keeps his silence, waits for the coldness of death's touch – or whatever the hell he ought to call what he did – to pass. When she speaks, his gaze doesn't move, remains fixed on the shadowy little corner, and—
He barks out a laugh. Of all the things to ask, he thinks, that's the first that came to mind? What an odd woman, Emma Cullen. ]
It might surprise you to know, but I ain't exactly the courtin' type. Nor was most'a' the women I went with.
[ Probably an improper topic of conversation to have with a lady, but he merely shrugs. ]
Holdin' hands weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind.
no subject
(Because he knows what he'll see on her face, that look of wide-eyed fear, that reminder of how wrong he is.)
He keeps his silence, waits for the coldness of death's touch – or whatever the hell he ought to call what he did – to pass. When she speaks, his gaze doesn't move, remains fixed on the shadowy little corner, and—
He barks out a laugh. Of all the things to ask, he thinks, that's the first that came to mind? What an odd woman, Emma Cullen. ]
It might surprise you to know, but I ain't exactly the courtin' type. Nor was most'a' the women I went with.
[ Probably an improper topic of conversation to have with a lady, but he merely shrugs. ]
Holdin' hands weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind.