[Knowing the way the air moves around someone is a hell of a thing to say to someone, and Murphy's caught blinking on the steps for a second even as she's already opening the door. Catching up, first on the smell comment - complete with not-so surreptitious checking of his pits, but he'd used the banya this morning, he's fine - and then in pace behind her.]
Why, you need to be somewhere? [He heads for the table as soon as he spots it, setting the basket down, but not unpacking it yet.] Cause I'll be honest, I'd kind of planned on having you for a while.
[ But Zoya says that with a glowing smile. Pulling out the chair opposite to where he stands, she sits. She doesn't feel the need to invite him to do the same; Murphy can do as he pleases as long as it doesn't involve trampling her flowers or taking his basket of nice, warm smells away.
Leaning back in her chair, she crosses her arms casually against her chest. ]
Don't tell me you intend to feed me with your bare hands.
[His own smile's more the sly tug at the corner of his mouth as he opens the basket, carefully lifted out a cloth-wrapped oblong from inside. Setting it on the table, untying the cloth to reveal the - thankfully still intact - coulibiac he'd made for them. Or for Zoya, specifically.]
Look, you can tell me I'm an idiot if you want, but after the Void, I realised I we don't exactly talk much when we're together. [Pausing, to gesture pointedly with a plate.] Not complaining. [Plate set on the table in front of her.]
[ He is an idiot, but not for the reasons he might think.
Her protest is on the tip of her tongue, but Zoya doesn't release it. She's an idiot. While she knows he's from space (an "air castle") and that he's survived an ordeal she's only scratched the surface of, and that he loves his mother despite her flaws and how she hurts him intentionally and unintentionally… she doesn't know if he likes the colour blue. Or if he writes in cursive or block letters (the memories are vague). Or if he likes flying or gets sick on the sea.
All important things one would know about their friend, right?
She settles back in her chair and concedes. (Look at that; John Murphy did the impossible!) ]
I want to get to know you, too.
[ Yes, that was painful to admit, although Zoya softens the awkwardly said words with a genuine, small smile. There's nothing to lose in admitting as much. Her pride remains intact—and so does he. ]
[The smile she gets in reply is a little bigger, a little brighter. He doesn't linger in it, though. There's an inherent awkwardness in coming at learning about a person like this, and looking at her like a sap isn't going to help.]
Well, we could start with your favourite flower.
[This smile is a little slyer as he serves a generous slice of the coulibiac onto her plate, some relief at seeing the layers of fish and vegetable inside are pretty much perfect.]
Or, you know. [Passing her a knife and fork.] Begin at the beginning.
[ She likes his dumb smile. Saints help her, this town has done something to her.
With a roll of her eyes, Zoya decides she won't be starting at the beginning. The beginning is where she prefers to end her tales of who she is. It contains too many landmines she doesn't wish to set off. ]
I like orchids. Any colour, although I prefer blue. [ What a surprise. ] They're very rare.
[ Zoya smiles, leaning back in her chair a touch smug. ]
[The look he gives her for that is a little flat, a non-verbal come on, seriously. But it isn't like he doesn't understand how hard it is, peeling it all back and laying it all out. At least, when he isn't using it as a weapon, as armour.]
Don't really have one. [Is what he settles on, shrugging.] Apocalypse, space.
[He serves himself a slice of the coulibiac, takes his seat. Decides to lead by example.]
I grew up on farm station. Algae was the first and only plant I knew for a long time.
[ It's so easy to continue giving him such non-answers that reveal a little but not much about her. But he tells her of a farm station, and all she can think about is Pachina, her aunt's chickens, and the dirt beneath her nails her mother used to resent. Did he ever have dirt beneath his nails? Did he ever get to make his hands so dirty his mother would scrub them clean until his skin was red?
But she doesn't wish to speak of Pachina. That's in the past—dead, gone, buried. Instead - ]
My aunt had chickens. [ She glances down for a moment, ignoring the food despite it being a perfect way to distract herself. (If she does that, he'll give her another one of those looks.) ] She had a very small farm. You probably would've found it overwhelming—I don't think there was algae, but she liked growing strawberries, peppers, and potatoes.
[ Many things. She should've opened a vegetable shop instead of tea. Zoya looks at Murphy, curious. ] Have you ever had them?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Why, you need to be somewhere? [He heads for the table as soon as he spots it, setting the basket down, but not unpacking it yet.] Cause I'll be honest, I'd kind of planned on having you for a while.
no subject
[ But Zoya says that with a glowing smile. Pulling out the chair opposite to where he stands, she sits. She doesn't feel the need to invite him to do the same; Murphy can do as he pleases as long as it doesn't involve trampling her flowers or taking his basket of nice, warm smells away.
Leaning back in her chair, she crosses her arms casually against her chest. ]
Don't tell me you intend to feed me with your bare hands.
no subject
[His own smile's more the sly tug at the corner of his mouth as he opens the basket, carefully lifted out a cloth-wrapped oblong from inside. Setting it on the table, untying the cloth to reveal the - thankfully still intact - coulibiac he'd made for them. Or for Zoya, specifically.]
Look, you can tell me I'm an idiot if you want, but after the Void, I realised I we don't exactly talk much when we're together. [Pausing, to gesture pointedly with a plate.] Not complaining. [Plate set on the table in front of her.]
But I'd like to... get to know you.
no subject
Her protest is on the tip of her tongue, but Zoya doesn't release it. She's an idiot. While she knows he's from space (an "air castle") and that he's survived an ordeal she's only scratched the surface of, and that he loves his mother despite her flaws and how she hurts him intentionally and unintentionally… she doesn't know if he likes the colour blue. Or if he writes in cursive or block letters (the memories are vague). Or if he likes flying or gets sick on the sea.
All important things one would know about their friend, right?
She settles back in her chair and concedes. (Look at that; John Murphy did the impossible!) ]
I want to get to know you, too.
[ Yes, that was painful to admit, although Zoya softens the awkwardly said words with a genuine, small smile. There's nothing to lose in admitting as much. Her pride remains intact—and so does he. ]
What do you want to know?
no subject
Well, we could start with your favourite flower.
[This smile is a little slyer as he serves a generous slice of the coulibiac onto her plate, some relief at seeing the layers of fish and vegetable inside are pretty much perfect.]
Or, you know. [Passing her a knife and fork.] Begin at the beginning.
no subject
With a roll of her eyes, Zoya decides she won't be starting at the beginning. The beginning is where she prefers to end her tales of who she is. It contains too many landmines she doesn't wish to set off. ]
I like orchids. Any colour, although I prefer blue. [ What a surprise. ] They're very rare.
[ Zoya smiles, leaning back in her chair a touch smug. ]
What's yours?
no subject
Don't really have one. [Is what he settles on, shrugging.] Apocalypse, space.
[He serves himself a slice of the coulibiac, takes his seat. Decides to lead by example.]
I grew up on farm station. Algae was the first and only plant I knew for a long time.
no subject
But she doesn't wish to speak of Pachina. That's in the past—dead, gone, buried. Instead - ]
My aunt had chickens. [ She glances down for a moment, ignoring the food despite it being a perfect way to distract herself. (If she does that, he'll give her another one of those looks.) ] She had a very small farm. You probably would've found it overwhelming—I don't think there was algae, but she liked growing strawberries, peppers, and potatoes.
[ Many things. She should've opened a vegetable shop instead of tea. Zoya looks at Murphy, curious. ] Have you ever had them?