Adeline's gait slows as the man behind her speaks; she cuts her eyes to him with a huff, but she doesn't stop moving. "―oh, stop. Shouldn't that tell you all you need to know, ser? I don't know. I'm much too tired to be antagonized."
A child of a man― no, something fearful and feral, threatened even by open palms. Her heart tightens in her chest at the thought, the intense empathy, cursed to find likeness even in the most contrary of people. She wouldn't dare to stand in his way, if she could help it, but he seems to be the type to take nearness for hindrance.
She pauses, her hand on the doorframe, and looks up at him― an expression of warning on her features, something that fades into the distance as her gaze lands on the bed before the practically insignificant figure in it. Adeline takes her hand from the doorframe, and despite his attitude― perhaps because of his attitude, his strange relationship with what can't be anything other than grief― allows him to go before her, following in step. She stops at the threshold, at his words.
Unlike his manner, his brutish way of speaking, his uncouth wont to swear and bite-back before bitten― this feeling, that look― this she can understand. She slips just out of view, leaning just adjacent to the doorframe, two small, gloved hands folded over her apron.
"―they did all they could do, it seems," says the quiet voice from the hall. "now there's just the sleeping, until."
And even softer, hesitating. She knows nothing but this. "I'm so sorry."
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Date: 2019-10-30 03:48 am (UTC)A child of a man― no, something fearful and feral, threatened even by open palms. Her heart tightens in her chest at the thought, the intense empathy, cursed to find likeness even in the most contrary of people. She wouldn't dare to stand in his way, if she could help it, but he seems to be the type to take nearness for hindrance.
She pauses, her hand on the doorframe, and looks up at him― an expression of warning on her features, something that fades into the distance as her gaze lands on the bed before the practically insignificant figure in it. Adeline takes her hand from the doorframe, and despite his attitude― perhaps because of his attitude, his strange relationship with what can't be anything other than grief― allows him to go before her, following in step. She stops at the threshold, at his words.
Unlike his manner, his brutish way of speaking, his uncouth wont to swear and bite-back before bitten― this feeling, that look― this she can understand. She slips just out of view, leaning just adjacent to the doorframe, two small, gloved hands folded over her apron.
"―they did all they could do, it seems," says the quiet voice from the hall. "now there's just the sleeping, until."
And even softer, hesitating. She knows nothing but this. "I'm so sorry."