…that was a misfire. Though he never looked away and his expression was never less than truly friendly, a brow did microscopically arch, and something behind his eyes went little more distant.
Maybe on a gut level, it couldn't help but land on him, how his clothing maybe was never so comfortable no matter what—much hadn't had tags on them by the time they got to him at all—
(The first year subsisting not-secretly-enough on hand-me-downs from McGonagall; after being adopted by the Trickster Gods, he refused to let them buy him better, but more and more he reluctantly would accept 'hand-me-downs' from James, as well. Sirius was too inept at making his look at all used and not bespoke.)
And he wasn't judging her for saying it, didn't find it offensive or stupid or anything… It was just a distance remembered, what a different world he walked in from most of the people around him, and how alien most would find his. Even to hear around the edges of it, how could she be expected to anticipate how he'd lived for most of his existence. If he told her outright, he was certain she wouldn't be threatening, lazy or cruel. He didn't doubt she'd be kind and sympathetic. She might be as unconventional in reaction as she was in most things, have interesting ways of looking at it that could be refreshing.
But they wouldn't be…
…he didn't even know any more.
What he'd lost? What he missed? What he'd wanted so much but never actually existed anyway?
It was fine, no one should be expected to get it at once, that would be terrible because it meant they'd lived it too and he didn't wish that on anyone; it just… wasn't necessarily a conversation to have this minute.
How else am I going to know you.
"I wouldn't mind hearing more about you," he said, picking up his cup to inhale the steam—really to hold in front of his face. For all the gods' sakes, please, turn focus off himself, including his own. "What kind of" [Order] "Business do they have you on so far?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-10-11 03:44 am (UTC)Maybe on a gut level, it couldn't help but land on him, how his clothing maybe was never so comfortable no matter what—much hadn't had tags on them by the time they got to him at all—
(The first year subsisting not-secretly-enough on hand-me-downs from McGonagall; after being adopted by the Trickster Gods, he refused to let them buy him better, but more and more he reluctantly would accept 'hand-me-downs' from James, as well. Sirius was too inept at making his look at all used and not bespoke.)
And he wasn't judging her for saying it, didn't find it offensive or stupid or anything… It was just a distance remembered, what a different world he walked in from most of the people around him, and how alien most would find his. Even to hear around the edges of it, how could she be expected to anticipate how he'd lived for most of his existence. If he told her outright, he was certain she wouldn't be threatening, lazy or cruel. He didn't doubt she'd be kind and sympathetic. She might be as unconventional in reaction as she was in most things, have interesting ways of looking at it that could be refreshing.
But they wouldn't be…
…he didn't even know any more.
What he'd lost? What he missed? What he'd wanted so much but never actually existed anyway?
It was fine, no one should be expected to get it at once, that would be terrible because it meant they'd lived it too and he didn't wish that on anyone; it just… wasn't necessarily a conversation to have this minute.
How else am I going to know you.
"I wouldn't mind hearing more about you," he said, picking up his cup to inhale the steam—really to hold in front of his face. For all the gods' sakes, please, turn focus off himself, including his own. "What kind of" [Order] "Business do they have you on so far?"