[She takes note of the drumming of his fingers in a distant kind of way, and it doesn’t serve to distract her, but there’s something about it that she likes. Not one to fidget, she’s never spent enough time around anyone else to become accustomed to that sort of thing, that idle expression of energy. So much of her existence has been quiet and still, and that’s one of many little things she’s begun to notice about people here; they’re so much more alive than she’s used to.]
[The frown from before eases away as a glance up catches his smile and her mouth softens into one, too. To her own surprise, there’s a sassy, ‘I think I just did,’ that threatens to escape her lips, but she refrains from interjecting with it. There’s only so much teasing that the poor girl can manage before her fear of overstepping begins to outweigh the perceived benefits of remaining jovial. Observationally, she offers instead,] They do say two heads are better than one. [And she’s more than able to recognize the value of cooperation. All the clearer, maybe, for having seen what the lack of it can cause.] I suppose everyone has things they wish they were better at.
[Which is actually a subject that’s been on her own mind, lately – the desire to be stronger. Not for her own sake, exactly, but for others. This has proven a dangerous place already, and the idea of being a burden on those around her does not sit well with her.]
[Her solemnity returns as she finishes adding the last touches – the barest suggestion of thorns and a little darkening round the edges of the cup, as though the rose is glowing – and she says,] I’m sure there are. [It’s a quiet thing, but her eyes flick up toward him again just for a moment, and if one didn’t know better, one might call it an almost knowing sort of look. She clarifies:] I think most people can say that, one way or another. [And she’s never been one to draw the line he mentioned; she’s never felt bad for feeling bad for someone, no matter what form it took. Some people might take offense, but to her, it’s all the same thing – sympathy, pure and simple, and the desire to make life a little easier for the other person.] But you’re right. Hurt teaches in ways nothing else can. I’ve… seen mistakes change people for the better more times than I can count. [And that concept was fundamental to her handling of the incidents with the journal, in truth. Data Roxas didn’t get it from nowhere.] … And for worse, too. It’s amazing, how delicate the balance is. Too much, and it can break you. Too little, and you never learn anything at all.
[It sounds suspiciously like she’s given this more thought than the average person might see fit to, based on her tone, but she chooses that moment to nod subtly to herself, final inspection of her work complete. With great care, she nudges it closer to his side of the counter so gently that the art doesn’t so much as visibly shift, then raises her head to give him a proper smile.]
no subject
[The frown from before eases away as a glance up catches his smile and her mouth softens into one, too. To her own surprise, there’s a sassy, ‘I think I just did,’ that threatens to escape her lips, but she refrains from interjecting with it. There’s only so much teasing that the poor girl can manage before her fear of overstepping begins to outweigh the perceived benefits of remaining jovial. Observationally, she offers instead,] They do say two heads are better than one. [And she’s more than able to recognize the value of cooperation. All the clearer, maybe, for having seen what the lack of it can cause.] I suppose everyone has things they wish they were better at.
[Which is actually a subject that’s been on her own mind, lately – the desire to be stronger. Not for her own sake, exactly, but for others. This has proven a dangerous place already, and the idea of being a burden on those around her does not sit well with her.]
[Her solemnity returns as she finishes adding the last touches – the barest suggestion of thorns and a little darkening round the edges of the cup, as though the rose is glowing – and she says,] I’m sure there are. [It’s a quiet thing, but her eyes flick up toward him again just for a moment, and if one didn’t know better, one might call it an almost knowing sort of look. She clarifies:] I think most people can say that, one way or another. [And she’s never been one to draw the line he mentioned; she’s never felt bad for feeling bad for someone, no matter what form it took. Some people might take offense, but to her, it’s all the same thing – sympathy, pure and simple, and the desire to make life a little easier for the other person.] But you’re right. Hurt teaches in ways nothing else can. I’ve… seen mistakes change people for the better more times than I can count. [And that concept was fundamental to her handling of the incidents with the journal, in truth. Data Roxas didn’t get it from nowhere.] … And for worse, too. It’s amazing, how delicate the balance is. Too much, and it can break you. Too little, and you never learn anything at all.
[It sounds suspiciously like she’s given this more thought than the average person might see fit to, based on her tone, but she chooses that moment to nod subtly to herself, final inspection of her work complete. With great care, she nudges it closer to his side of the counter so gently that the art doesn’t so much as visibly shift, then raises her head to give him a proper smile.]
There. All done.