*He hadn't been expecting company and the room is uncharacteristically untidy - if not by most people's standards, then certainly by his own.
The empty bottle and the glass are removed from the table, the latter smudged with fingerprints from many uses; the cushions rearranged and the blanket folded neatly and laid over the arm of the sofa. He scans the room restlessly, frowning at the slightly crumpled rug, the half-made bed and the dying fire, stepping over to the hearth to add another log and noting that the grate needs to be cleared of ash.
He looks up at Kristoph's words, having half-forgotten he was even there; too lost in irritation at himself and the room. There's a slight hesitation, a stubborn resistance to it, before there's a half-nod of acknowledgement and he crosses the room again to flick on the kettle and extract two china mugs from the cupboard.
It's routine now - he barely even needs to think about it. Lapsang souchong, and he knows exactly how Kris prefers it - the strength and the temperature.There's a sudden memory of Kristoph's alternate, smiling at him politely with empty eyes over the rim of a cup and he tenses slightly, pushing it away.
He doesn't look round, leaning against the wall beside the kettle and folding his arms as he waits for the tea to steep.*
I apologise for the state of the room. I have been somewhat occupied.
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branchandroot
Oh yay. He needs a BFF. If he'll talk :|
Date: 2008-10-01 04:18 am (UTC)The empty bottle and the glass are removed from the table, the latter smudged with fingerprints from many uses; the cushions rearranged and the blanket folded neatly and laid over the arm of the sofa. He scans the room restlessly, frowning at the slightly crumpled rug, the half-made bed and the dying fire, stepping over to the hearth to add another log and noting that the grate needs to be cleared of ash.
He looks up at Kristoph's words, having half-forgotten he was even there; too lost in irritation at himself and the room. There's a slight hesitation, a stubborn resistance to it, before there's a half-nod of acknowledgement and he crosses the room again to flick on the kettle and extract two china mugs from the cupboard.
It's routine now - he barely even needs to think about it. Lapsang souchong, and he knows exactly how Kris prefers it - the strength and the temperature.There's a sudden memory of Kristoph's alternate, smiling at him politely with empty eyes over the rim of a cup and he tenses slightly, pushing it away.
He doesn't look round, leaning against the wall beside the kettle and folding his arms as he waits for the tea to steep.*
I apologise for the state of the room. I have been somewhat occupied.