[Julian half expects it, to hear some cutting comment from Asra's quarter, a snide little aside, but when no words of warning are forthcoming he makes a dismissive gesture with one gloved hand, clicks his tongue.]
I'm sure I'll manage.
[He says it a touch airily, but what are the chances Cain's warning was given for a reason? Hard to tell, isn't it, with his skin of his hands concealed by the gloves. A warning that seems all the more warranted just a fraction of a moment later, when Cain's comments have him looking up sharp whilst pouring out boiling water into the little cups, only narrowly avoiding spilling.
Our place, he says. Our place, and there's the sound of his name - his true name, so rarely used - pronounced on the other man's lips to perfection. A sense of the deeply familiar, even in this strange world. It pulls him up short, somehow, subtly, in a way he doesn't quite understand. Quietly, he clears his throat.
And hot on its heels is the offer to Asra, one that has Julian's gaze sliding sideways in the magician's direction, surprised, but expecting rejection. Just the brief flick of his eye, and then he returns his focus to the tea.
His mouth, it feels a little dry, suddenly.]
It's true. He's always been a bit of a nomad. Never can find him when you want him.
[Though it's said without the bitterness from earlier-- a factual statement, rather than a barb meant to pierce.]
But look, Asra. What else did you have in mind? I can't imagine you intended to set yourself up in one of those big houses, and you can't just knock about the streets for nights on end.
[Says the man who just called himself a guest in Cain's home, and who has - in fact - knocked about the streets for nights on end.]
no subject
I'm sure I'll manage.
[He says it a touch airily, but what are the chances Cain's warning was given for a reason? Hard to tell, isn't it, with his skin of his hands concealed by the gloves. A warning that seems all the more warranted just a fraction of a moment later, when Cain's comments have him looking up sharp whilst pouring out boiling water into the little cups, only narrowly avoiding spilling.
Our place, he says. Our place, and there's the sound of his name - his true name, so rarely used - pronounced on the other man's lips to perfection. A sense of the deeply familiar, even in this strange world. It pulls him up short, somehow, subtly, in a way he doesn't quite understand. Quietly, he clears his throat.
And hot on its heels is the offer to Asra, one that has Julian's gaze sliding sideways in the magician's direction, surprised, but expecting rejection. Just the brief flick of his eye, and then he returns his focus to the tea.
His mouth, it feels a little dry, suddenly.]
It's true. He's always been a bit of a nomad. Never can find him when you want him.
[Though it's said without the bitterness from earlier-- a factual statement, rather than a barb meant to pierce.]
But look, Asra. What else did you have in mind? I can't imagine you intended to set yourself up in one of those big houses, and you can't just knock about the streets for nights on end.
[Says the man who just called himself a guest in Cain's home, and who has - in fact - knocked about the streets for nights on end.]