[Bigby notices Sarah's eyes sliding over to the attendant before he sees her himself. His reaction is, all considered, pretty muted and polite — if you could call not making faces or glaring the height of good manners. It takes him all of three seconds to realize what the problem is, and when he does, his eyes flick down to his cigarette... before he takes another drag from it.
The way he exhales, though? Taking deliberate care to blow smoke away from the books? That actually is him being polite.
Sadly, it either doesn't count or make a big enough difference to change the woman's mind. She hurries away like someone's lit a fire under her feet, the same as every attendant Bigby has met in this castle. He's not going to pretend he doesn't understand why, but he won't pretend it's not getting discouraging either. At first, it had been convenient. Now, it just reminds him how disassociated he really is from everyone and everything here, natives and Otherworlders alike.
The silence Sarah and him fall into doesn't seem quite as comfortable anymore. Just heavy and long. It's broken by the sound of Sarah's pen scratching into her paper, drawing Bigby's attention back down to it where it holds, even as she finally speaks up.]
What were they? "Fuck you"? [His chair creaks softly as he shifts in it, the noise louder than the snorting sound he makes.] You can't get more right than that.
[Not even being sarcastic here.]
What's that?
["That" being her paper, and you know what, he's not even going to wait for a response — or maybe he doesn't know how to. Either way, he reaches for the paper to pull it over to his end of the table.]
no subject
The way he exhales, though? Taking deliberate care to blow smoke away from the books? That actually is him being polite.
Sadly, it either doesn't count or make a big enough difference to change the woman's mind. She hurries away like someone's lit a fire under her feet, the same as every attendant Bigby has met in this castle. He's not going to pretend he doesn't understand why, but he won't pretend it's not getting discouraging either. At first, it had been convenient. Now, it just reminds him how disassociated he really is from everyone and everything here, natives and Otherworlders alike.
The silence Sarah and him fall into doesn't seem quite as comfortable anymore. Just heavy and long. It's broken by the sound of Sarah's pen scratching into her paper, drawing Bigby's attention back down to it where it holds, even as she finally speaks up.]
What were they? "Fuck you"? [His chair creaks softly as he shifts in it, the noise louder than the snorting sound he makes.] You can't get more right than that.
[Not even being sarcastic here.]
What's that?
["That" being her paper, and you know what, he's not even going to wait for a response — or maybe he doesn't know how to. Either way, he reaches for the paper to pull it over to his end of the table.]