He felt that moment and his own smile absolutely fell, replaced by an expression of concern and slight confusion, complete with a crease between his eyebrows. The urge to try to provide physical comfort? Easily enough brushed aside.
"I am neither injured nor particularly insulted," he says, sounding pretty even but with a... flatness that was mostly the result of just... tired inevitability. "This should have happened years ago."
Moving on:
"I'm sure the library is fine. The view certainly is."
Alaric's reaction...was he so transparent? He prided himself on the smiles and the jokes and the endless golden charm to keep things nicely packaged up complete with a pretty bow, but maybe he was slipping. Or maybe some other thought had brought Alaric's expression down and it had nothing to do with Anders, yes that was likely it. As much as the world ought to revolve around him, it so rarely listened, after all.
Yes, it was much more likely to do with that very thing: practicality in the face of emotion. Deny how you feel about a thing in the interest of focusing on what logically makes sense. Anders' brow arched, his tone pointed as he turned to look back out at the horizon. "Hold onto that little talent of prioritization and you'll do very nicely in the circle, I think."
'Am I tranquil? No. Am I breathing? Yes. Then all was right in the world, right?' Some days it was enough.
"The view from here is better than the view from the garden, it's all Honneleath and the Kokari Wilds and the southern half of the Frostbacks from there, but also a huge lattice fence, so it's harder to take in. As I said, the gardens are meant for the healers only, so if you don't want to sneak around, find yourself a healer friend to come up here with. Well, up to the gardens with. This spot is known by about a dozen, and only half of those are healers, and another half won't set foot for the height, so you might need to sneak for this one."
"I'll be interested to see the gardens, because they are there. I'll be more interested to see if I can make a friend who is a healer and see what I can pry out of them about the field. I know nothing beyond it's theoretical possibility."
There's a kind of slight smile with that, but in truth? He is pretty confident that he'll be okay. Challenges? Yes. But not likely the ones most would imagine or expect from a very pampered Omega used to a life of luxury.
Well, most of them. At least one or two will be predictable.
Very, very predictable.
"There are advantages to being here. That is one." In general and in specific.
"I'll show them to you whenever you've had your fill here...though, that might be best within the hour, just in case anyone goes looking for us. Irving probably, He probably wants to talk to you before dinner." Which was hours off still, they had time.
He leans back on his hands and flashes a smile over towards Alaric. "Oh I'm sure you'll manage. There's about a dozen healers here and, as I said, two spirit healers -which is two more than you'll find in near any other circle, there's less than a dozen in existence, you know. If you've a talent for Creation magic, they'll likely put you on a healer's path yourself. Creation or Entropy, I suppose, most can do both since they're so similar."
Not...him...but who was good at everything anyway?
"What sort of magic can you do? Innate element? Focuses? Passions? Or were you simply taught how not to blow up the hallways or blast back people in a fit of emotion?"
"Aaah....but you've blasted something?" Anders follows to his feet and leads the way, back, but only to ensure the window is pressed in the right place (which he stops to point out to Alaric) and also to ensure the coast was clear. Once they were back in the hall, he closes the window behind them and starts down the rest of the hall.
"Very well, keep your secrets and your specialties, most will be known soon enough, I'm afraid, so enjoy having them while you can."
The latticed door's handle swept in beautiful ironwork, though one side of it had a pad that glowed the color of lyrium and gave off the mineral's gentle hum as well. Anders places his hand over it and pauses, waiting for the gentle glow to turn white and fade, before pushing the door open.
Inside, the fence he'd mentioned before wraps around the edges of the oversized balcony and creates as roof over the whole thing. Enough to shade, but not enough to keep the sun and rain out. Tables with pots line the sides, bordered by pots as large as a dwarf and trellises that carry their greenery proudly. In the center stands a large table that carries more plants as well as clear spaces meant as work areas. Throughout the area, blue and red crystals in brass settings take up measured distance from one another.
Anders leads them in and immediately goes to a large plant in one of the pots on the floor, it's, broad leaves a deep green that faded into light purple, stretched out almost in greeting. "Hello, beautiful, how are you today? You get special extra visit because I have a guest. Besides, I need to check on your sisters."
He brushes his fingers along one leaf, but then moves to a row of pots on the table beside it. The plants there were smaller but similar in shape and color, only instead of purple, the leaves faded into a pale orange. Here he stops and grows quiet with focus as he inspects the leaves.
"I'm sure you're right," he says, with that same tired inevitability of earlier. In truth he just doesn't want this interaction tainted. Just taking this singular interaction for what it is, as it is, with less complication than it might have.
He also doesn't quite know how to answer the question, anyway. His education's been effective but somewhat strange.
He makes his way over toward one of the trellises, looking past the fence a bit, before refocusing and tracing one of the trailing vines, carefully. "You, meanwhile, are obviously a healer." This is not a sign of intelligence. Only healers go there, right?
Anders smiles to himself as he prunes a bit around the base of a couple of the plants, then reaches for a jar tucked away under the table to sprinkle some of the solution he'd prepared yesterday over them. This crop would not fail to the parasites that had somehow found them, not if he had anything to say about it. Besides, they'd be needed soon, they had to be as healthy as possible.
"I'm afraid you've caught me green-handed." He hadn't been especially stealthy, but he could keep the nature of his healing under wraps for now. It was always the same as soon as anyone knew...people didn't always look at Wynne like that, but Anders was an Aplha, who knew how much more 'dangerous' he could be. Easier to just let it be.
"You have to understand, once anyone knows you're a healer it's all 'do this do that, Anders I have a papercut, Anders I banged my shin, Anders my stomach aches, please can't you help me' and there's never any rest again." He finishes his work and tucks the jar back away to turn and face Alaric with that smirk back in place. "But, as I said, secrets die young here, you were bound to find out eventually. Had I not needed to tend to your future salvation here, we might have even gone a day on even ground. Oh well. Welcome to the gardens, I'm sure I could arrange to bring you up here if you ever wanted, though there's plenty of others who have access, as I said, you might find yourself getting along better with them, as endlessly charming as I'm sure you've found me."
He nods to the space at large. "It's mostly communal, though everyone has their own project and specialty here, then the plants are harvested, prepared, and brought down to the projects room to be turned into potions, poultices, toxins, or whatever else might be needed." He pointed to a corner of the garden that seemed to be growing fruits and vegetables. "Oh, except those. That's just food."
That was an awful lot of words and he was pretty sure most of them were not particularly relevant or important.
That sharp edged humor as cover again, maybe, woven through some actually important things.
He slides a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and tucks it there to stay secure, frowning again. "...Why would you being a healer result in us being on uneven ground?" Especially in light of other things.
Also food is interesting and he's heard about it and the nature of the space but also he does not currently care about that.
Of everything he said, that was the part he had to clue in on. Alaric Morgan was not a noble to be wowed and distracted, he was sharp and perceptive and clearly more than a match even after only a few hours if the allure of newness didn't turn his head. Anders would have to keep an eye on him.
There is one, very self-destructive moment where he thinks about telling him how exactly uneven their ground is in his mind, to tell him about being a Spirit Healer and all the societal baggage that came with it. Extra danger, extra risk, constantly flirting with forces every mage is taught to steer clear of and be wary. No one wants to interact with a mage who risks possession every day, especially an Alpha, already seen as both potentially aggressive and holding power, how much worse was it to know that could be twisted into something a hundred times worse as an abomination?
The moment passes and he simply shrugs, arms out like it's a simple answer, really. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. What better service to man but those who can work the Maker's grace into healing salvation? Where most bend the natural elements and work to defend or enhance or study, healers serve even their fellow mages, not only man, the ground is proverbially uneven. I am bound to serve, you or anyone else, I am a healer before I am anything else." Half of it was said with the sort of overblown air of someone reciting someone else's words, but the other half was bare and earnest, though with far less resentment than the words themselves might imply. It was complicated, but enough for now, and only a partial lie for what he omit rather than what was said.
There is something in the combination of the self-loathing and... almost arrogance that is very, very confusing for him and that expression is once more stamped on his face, albeit fairly subtly.
It is also clear in his pause before reply, and the way his fingers on the plant he was touching still.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," is all he says, still looking... well, completely and utterly baffled, completely still save the wind toying with the occasional strand of his hair.
"No?" He holds Alaric's gaze a moment, amber eyes steadfastly taking in every ounce of that confusion. It was fine, better he didn't. Maybe he'd never understand and this would be filed away as 'that one really odd conversation I had with the crazy Alpha healer' and it would never matter again.
All at once, his expression melted to an easy smile and he gave a wave of his hand as though brushing aside the entire thing. "Well, then I must be wrong, forget it entirely."
He laughs, a startled thing at first, but then genuine and he crosses his arms over his chest.
"How do you know I'm not? Lucky for you, you're endlessly charming, I'm sure you'll do fine. Is there anywhere else you'd like to go or anything else you'd like to do before the old codger calls on you?"
He leads them back out of the garden and down the colorful hall back to the lower floors. As they crossed passed the floor with the wards, Anders tossed a curious look over to Alaric. "This might be too personal, but you responded to my answer about the cycles with disdain earlier. I'm curious what it is you're used to, what you were expecting."
"As you said about secrets - there's very little I would consider too personal, here."
There's no hesitation in his steps, he simply carries on. He does however briefly break eye-contact, to try to find words. Not answers, he has those, just the words.
Then he realizes there isn't really any dressing it up and he wouldn't if he could. It's brutal in its own way but it's the sort of thing he is used to. Familiar. "Being left alone." It really is that simple.
"Really?" They weren't crammed together when it happened, but there were usually two or three omegas to a room, depending on how many of them hit their heat at the same time and if there were hands to spare. Alphas were kept two to a room and at opposite ends, too much instinct and too much aggression, depending. Either way, even if the odd circumstance where someone ended up alone, there was always a templar to be found, Betas with ant-magic abilities to break or sooth depending on the guard.
If it was really bad, he or Wynne might be called in with a specific person or a full room depending on the definition of 'bad' and it was miserable for all involved. Another aspect of serving, but he couldn't imagine being left to suffer entirely alone.
"I cannot speak from experience," he says, sounding just a little grumpy about it, "but I cannot see a single way company would have actually been preferable."
A pause, and amendment, "Excluding several days when anyone with a dick would have been fine, but incredibly awkward and uncomfortable shortly after."
Then he softens and shrugs, slightly. "It is physically miserable, there is little to nothing I could realistically do about it." In hiding, remember? "Curling up behind walls and waiting it out if nothing else saved my dignity."
He shook his head as they finally got back to floor with the library. "Well, those plants I was tending earlier are meant for a potion that is supposed to help symptoms for the cycles, though it's largely experimental right now and some batches are stronger than others." Plus, sometimes there wasn't enough if a mated pair without their other half needed it, more was siphoned off to try and make them comfortable, but no one aside from the healers knew that one, it would make the placebo they had to replace it with less effective.
Their path led them past a set of templars stationed at the stairs, then another stationed at Irving's closed door and Anders stepped a bit closer to lower his voice, tone pointed and eyes on the next templar stationed thirty or so feet away. "In the meantime...welcome to a life of never being alone again, Ser Morgan."
He looks very slightly pained, but nods and manages another smile, albeit this one strained. "Thank you for your help. I look forward to seeing you again."
That is all true at least, though he is not looking forward to discussions.
Dinner is about what Anders would call ordered chaos, even Breakfast was easier. There was a group breakfast, but there were options for those who rose early either due to duties, worship needs, or preference. Dinner was simply everyone all at once.
Gregoir and Irving, for all their flaws, ran a tight ship as far as process was concerned, however, and it was hardly a zoo, but even lowered voices for conversations at the various mage tables and templar tables could create a din.
For his part, Anders was faced with the same dilemma he'd been faced with for the last year and a half: where to sit. A simple problem, really, and it wasn't that there weren't options, he just had to pick his preference of downside.
He could sit with Wynne and a few of her peers who either kept quite and dull conversation or none at all and potentially suffer his previous-mentor's disapproving or judgmental remarks. He could sit with a couple of the Apprentices that had recent undergone their Harrowing and suddenly feel ancient or be bombarded with questions, depending on the flavor of the night, or he could sit with his old friends. The ones that knew what number of theirs was missing and had been and still they looked at him with such pity in their eyes, though he knew some of them were beginning to think 'hasn't it been long enough?' and that was worse.
He was contemplating the table full of only Alphas when he caught sight of Alaric instead. He could start there at least, maybe make sure his temporary charge settled in somewhere.
Alaric had paid absolutely no attention to where he sat, only that he sat. He was sitting with a fork in his hand and plate in front of him.
He was also sitting with his other elbow on the table, head propped in his hand, and his head tilted deliberately, so as to direct his hair to fall over his face. He was not complaining about... anything, but the number of people and noise level were creating issues - or one issue made worse by the other.
He is holding himself, in spite of the casual posture, with a lot of tension - in his back, his shoulders, his jaw, and the fact that the hand in his hair is a white knuckled fist. For all that, the hand he's holding the fork with is relaxed.
He has barely any idea who sat down to eat with him, just that someone has. He automatically looks up and then smiles. "Hello, again."
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"I am neither injured nor particularly insulted," he says, sounding pretty even but with a... flatness that was mostly the result of just... tired inevitability. "This should have happened years ago."
Moving on:
"I'm sure the library is fine. The view certainly is."
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Yes, it was much more likely to do with that very thing: practicality in the face of emotion. Deny how you feel about a thing in the interest of focusing on what logically makes sense. Anders' brow arched, his tone pointed as he turned to look back out at the horizon. "Hold onto that little talent of prioritization and you'll do very nicely in the circle, I think."
'Am I tranquil? No. Am I breathing? Yes. Then all was right in the world, right?' Some days it was enough.
"The view from here is better than the view from the garden, it's all Honneleath and the Kokari Wilds and the southern half of the Frostbacks from there, but also a huge lattice fence, so it's harder to take in. As I said, the gardens are meant for the healers only, so if you don't want to sneak around, find yourself a healer friend to come up here with. Well, up to the gardens with. This spot is known by about a dozen, and only half of those are healers, and another half won't set foot for the height, so you might need to sneak for this one."
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There's a kind of slight smile with that, but in truth? He is pretty confident that he'll be okay. Challenges? Yes. But not likely the ones most would imagine or expect from a very pampered Omega used to a life of luxury.
Well, most of them. At least one or two will be predictable.
Very, very predictable.
"There are advantages to being here. That is one." In general and in specific.
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He leans back on his hands and flashes a smile over towards Alaric. "Oh I'm sure you'll manage. There's about a dozen healers here and, as I said, two spirit healers -which is two more than you'll find in near any other circle, there's less than a dozen in existence, you know. If you've a talent for Creation magic, they'll likely put you on a healer's path yourself. Creation or Entropy, I suppose, most can do both since they're so similar."
Not...him...but who was good at everything anyway?
"What sort of magic can you do? Innate element? Focuses? Passions? Or were you simply taught how not to blow up the hallways or blast back people in a fit of emotion?"
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Why is he being evasive?
Because he can and because he doesn't know enough to know, but does know enough to be cautious. Very, very cautious.
Except: "I've never blown up anything, nor blasted anyone." Thank you very much.
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"Very well, keep your secrets and your specialties, most will be known soon enough, I'm afraid, so enjoy having them while you can."
The latticed door's handle swept in beautiful ironwork, though one side of it had a pad that glowed the color of lyrium and gave off the mineral's gentle hum as well. Anders places his hand over it and pauses, waiting for the gentle glow to turn white and fade, before pushing the door open.
Inside, the fence he'd mentioned before wraps around the edges of the oversized balcony and creates as roof over the whole thing. Enough to shade, but not enough to keep the sun and rain out. Tables with pots line the sides, bordered by pots as large as a dwarf and trellises that carry their greenery proudly. In the center stands a large table that carries more plants as well as clear spaces meant as work areas. Throughout the area, blue and red crystals in brass settings take up measured distance from one another.
Anders leads them in and immediately goes to a large plant in one of the pots on the floor, it's, broad leaves a deep green that faded into light purple, stretched out almost in greeting. "Hello, beautiful, how are you today? You get special extra visit because I have a guest. Besides, I need to check on your sisters."
He brushes his fingers along one leaf, but then moves to a row of pots on the table beside it. The plants there were smaller but similar in shape and color, only instead of purple, the leaves faded into a pale orange. Here he stops and grows quiet with focus as he inspects the leaves.
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He also doesn't quite know how to answer the question, anyway. His education's been effective but somewhat strange.
He makes his way over toward one of the trellises, looking past the fence a bit, before refocusing and tracing one of the trailing vines, carefully. "You, meanwhile, are obviously a healer." This is not a sign of intelligence. Only healers go there, right?
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"I'm afraid you've caught me green-handed." He hadn't been especially stealthy, but he could keep the nature of his healing under wraps for now. It was always the same as soon as anyone knew...people didn't always look at Wynne like that, but Anders was an Aplha, who knew how much more 'dangerous' he could be. Easier to just let it be.
"You have to understand, once anyone knows you're a healer it's all 'do this do that, Anders I have a papercut, Anders I banged my shin, Anders my stomach aches, please can't you help me' and there's never any rest again." He finishes his work and tucks the jar back away to turn and face Alaric with that smirk back in place. "But, as I said, secrets die young here, you were bound to find out eventually. Had I not needed to tend to your future salvation here, we might have even gone a day on even ground. Oh well. Welcome to the gardens, I'm sure I could arrange to bring you up here if you ever wanted, though there's plenty of others who have access, as I said, you might find yourself getting along better with them, as endlessly charming as I'm sure you've found me."
He nods to the space at large. "It's mostly communal, though everyone has their own project and specialty here, then the plants are harvested, prepared, and brought down to the projects room to be turned into potions, poultices, toxins, or whatever else might be needed." He pointed to a corner of the garden that seemed to be growing fruits and vegetables. "Oh, except those. That's just food."
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That sharp edged humor as cover again, maybe, woven through some actually important things.
He slides a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and tucks it there to stay secure, frowning again. "...Why would you being a healer result in us being on uneven ground?" Especially in light of other things.
Also food is interesting and he's heard about it and the nature of the space but also he does not currently care about that.
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There is one, very self-destructive moment where he thinks about telling him how exactly uneven their ground is in his mind, to tell him about being a Spirit Healer and all the societal baggage that came with it. Extra danger, extra risk, constantly flirting with forces every mage is taught to steer clear of and be wary. No one wants to interact with a mage who risks possession every day, especially an Alpha, already seen as both potentially aggressive and holding power, how much worse was it to know that could be twisted into something a hundred times worse as an abomination?
The moment passes and he simply shrugs, arms out like it's a simple answer, really. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him. What better service to man but those who can work the Maker's grace into healing salvation? Where most bend the natural elements and work to defend or enhance or study, healers serve even their fellow mages, not only man, the ground is proverbially uneven. I am bound to serve, you or anyone else, I am a healer before I am anything else." Half of it was said with the sort of overblown air of someone reciting someone else's words, but the other half was bare and earnest, though with far less resentment than the words themselves might imply. It was complicated, but enough for now, and only a partial lie for what he omit rather than what was said.
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It is also clear in his pause before reply, and the way his fingers on the plant he was touching still.
"I don't think that's quite how that works," is all he says, still looking... well, completely and utterly baffled, completely still save the wind toying with the occasional strand of his hair.
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All at once, his expression melted to an easy smile and he gave a wave of his hand as though brushing aside the entire thing. "Well, then I must be wrong, forget it entirely."
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"...How long have you been here, Anders?"
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He tilts his head a bit, easy smile firmly in place. "Many more to go, I think. Maker willing."
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"Your coping mechanisms are, I'm sure, effective, but they also make you seem psychotic."
Just, you know, throwing that out there.
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"How do you know I'm not? Lucky for you, you're endlessly charming, I'm sure you'll do fine. Is there anywhere else you'd like to go or anything else you'd like to do before the old codger calls on you?"
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He leads them back out of the garden and down the colorful hall back to the lower floors. As they crossed passed the floor with the wards, Anders tossed a curious look over to Alaric. "This might be too personal, but you responded to my answer about the cycles with disdain earlier. I'm curious what it is you're used to, what you were expecting."
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There's no hesitation in his steps, he simply carries on. He does however briefly break eye-contact, to try to find words. Not answers, he has those, just the words.
Then he realizes there isn't really any dressing it up and he wouldn't if he could. It's brutal in its own way but it's the sort of thing he is used to. Familiar. "Being left alone." It really is that simple.
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If it was really bad, he or Wynne might be called in with a specific person or a full room depending on the definition of 'bad' and it was miserable for all involved. Another aspect of serving, but he couldn't imagine being left to suffer entirely alone.
"You find that to be better?"
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A pause, and amendment, "Excluding several days when anyone with a dick would have been fine, but incredibly awkward and uncomfortable shortly after."
Then he softens and shrugs, slightly. "It is physically miserable, there is little to nothing I could realistically do about it." In hiding, remember? "Curling up behind walls and waiting it out if nothing else saved my dignity."
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Their path led them past a set of templars stationed at the stairs, then another stationed at Irving's closed door and Anders stepped a bit closer to lower his voice, tone pointed and eyes on the next templar stationed thirty or so feet away. "In the meantime...welcome to a life of never being alone again, Ser Morgan."
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That is all true at least, though he is not looking forward to discussions.
It doesn't even occur to him to dread dinner.
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Gregoir and Irving, for all their flaws, ran a tight ship as far as process was concerned, however, and it was hardly a zoo, but even lowered voices for conversations at the various mage tables and templar tables could create a din.
For his part, Anders was faced with the same dilemma he'd been faced with for the last year and a half: where to sit. A simple problem, really, and it wasn't that there weren't options, he just had to pick his preference of downside.
He could sit with Wynne and a few of her peers who either kept quite and dull conversation or none at all and potentially suffer his previous-mentor's disapproving or judgmental remarks. He could sit with a couple of the Apprentices that had recent undergone their Harrowing and suddenly feel ancient or be bombarded with questions, depending on the flavor of the night, or he could sit with his old friends. The ones that knew what number of theirs was missing and had been and still they looked at him with such pity in their eyes, though he knew some of them were beginning to think 'hasn't it been long enough?' and that was worse.
He was contemplating the table full of only Alphas when he caught sight of Alaric instead. He could start there at least, maybe make sure his temporary charge settled in somewhere.
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He was also sitting with his other elbow on the table, head propped in his hand, and his head tilted deliberately, so as to direct his hair to fall over his face. He was not complaining about... anything, but the number of people and noise level were creating issues - or one issue made worse by the other.
He is holding himself, in spite of the casual posture, with a lot of tension - in his back, his shoulders, his jaw, and the fact that the hand in his hair is a white knuckled fist. For all that, the hand he's holding the fork with is relaxed.
He has barely any idea who sat down to eat with him, just that someone has. He automatically looks up and then smiles. "Hello, again."
Does he sound right?
No.
Because he is in physical pain.
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