He's an imbecile, and this is why: He asked a question without considering, really considering, whether he could he take every possible answer. Some part of him had thought that six months couldn't be long enough to find herself all that entwined with anyone. Some part of him had hoped that she'd gone on some kind of murderous rampage instead of entertaining the possibility of sex. All of him was an idiot, and now it feels like Grog's stomping his chest flat.
"Oh," he says again, and that's all he can manage for a moment or two. There's no room to reason his way out of the moment, or to school his face away from surprise and surprise. He's too busy swallowing down betrayal and a vague sense of doom on the horizon. It's a long, strange moment of anguish, his limbs frozen in place - or it feels that way to him, anyway. It might have only been a second or two. He's not actually sure.
But it ends - everything ends eventually - and his thoughts begin to fire again. Rapidly, determinedly: You weren't here. You had no claim on her anyway. Don't be an arsehole about this, if you love her you won't be an arsehole.
"Well. Yes, I suppose that makes sense." And that's another thing, he can't demand fidelity of a woman who's never kissed him, on a plane that seems to revolve around fucking as many different people as possible. He puts on the brightest tone he can, straightening up from where he's been half-seated. "I suppose congratulations are in order, especially now that you've got a bit more, er, space to yourself. It really is a very fine home."
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"Oh," he says again, and that's all he can manage for a moment or two. There's no room to reason his way out of the moment, or to school his face away from surprise and surprise. He's too busy swallowing down betrayal and a vague sense of doom on the horizon. It's a long, strange moment of anguish, his limbs frozen in place - or it feels that way to him, anyway. It might have only been a second or two. He's not actually sure.
But it ends - everything ends eventually - and his thoughts begin to fire again. Rapidly, determinedly: You weren't here. You had no claim on her anyway. Don't be an arsehole about this, if you love her you won't be an arsehole.
"Well. Yes, I suppose that makes sense." And that's another thing, he can't demand fidelity of a woman who's never kissed him, on a plane that seems to revolve around fucking as many different people as possible. He puts on the brightest tone he can, straightening up from where he's been half-seated. "I suppose congratulations are in order, especially now that you've got a bit more, er, space to yourself. It really is a very fine home."