[ At her laughter, he turns away for a moment, long enough to get to refilling both of their glasses. The conversation feels less heavy, at least, even if the air around them still feels thick with something else.
And when Margo calls it out plainly, as is very much like her, Booker doesn't falter, doesn't really seem perplexed by the suggestion. But his lips curve upwards. ]
'This'? [ — is all he repeats in the midst of pouring himself another glass.
He pauses, glass only partially refilled, and then puts the bottle down. He studies her, long enough to see whether she's joking about it or the suggestion is a very real one.
And then he nods, deciding. ]
My place might not be ideal. [ In case any one of his family might happen to head home a little earlier than usual. ]
no subject
And when Margo calls it out plainly, as is very much like her, Booker doesn't falter, doesn't really seem perplexed by the suggestion. But his lips curve upwards. ]
'This'? [ — is all he repeats in the midst of pouring himself another glass.
He pauses, glass only partially refilled, and then puts the bottle down. He studies her, long enough to see whether she's joking about it or the suggestion is a very real one.
And then he nods, deciding. ]
My place might not be ideal. [ In case any one of his family might happen to head home a little earlier than usual. ]