[She glances up at him without pause, fingers working over the small stitches. She's dexterous enough that it comes easily, but if it wasn't for the notion of pocketing a needle now and then for her own use, she wouldn't bother with this archaic task.
It would mean another hour of anxious, empty boredom, but imagining how she'd while away the minutes if she weren't here would be illogical.
When she answers, her eyes are on her stitching again.]
[Spam]
It would mean another hour of anxious, empty boredom, but imagining how she'd while away the minutes if she weren't here would be illogical.
When she answers, her eyes are on her stitching again.]
Why are you telling me this now?