[And that proves to be a question that she could answer with a narrative that goes on and on and on, and she does. It lasts through the rest of her plate of dinner; it lasts until the sunset is once again staining the room hues of orange and gold. She thinks of details to add as they put the plates away and store the rest of the pasta for later; she chatters as he leads her into the living room and they find their seats again, and as this time she takes the loveseat for herself instead of the chair and kicks off her shoes to curl her legs up beneath her on it, catlike.
But soon, things wind down, and a pleasant solemnity settles around them. She's toying with the tassled fringe on the edges of one of the throw pillows, and watching him, and more importantly, watching him watch her right back.
It's as though they both know that the evening ought to end any minute, and yet both of them are pointedly ignoring it in the hopes that if they refuse to acknowledge it, maybe the reality of it will just go away.]
You are in high spirits tonight.
[She observes, managing not to yawn in the middle.]
no subject
But soon, things wind down, and a pleasant solemnity settles around them. She's toying with the tassled fringe on the edges of one of the throw pillows, and watching him, and more importantly, watching him watch her right back.
It's as though they both know that the evening ought to end any minute, and yet both of them are pointedly ignoring it in the hopes that if they refuse to acknowledge it, maybe the reality of it will just go away.]
You are in high spirits tonight.
[She observes, managing not to yawn in the middle.]
You're feeling better, then?