Day 51: Arts and Crafts [Second Shift]

[gald_digger]

They actually listened to some of the suggestions people put in that box? Anise thought the Head Doctor had to be joking when he said that, but she soon heard him mention something that she herself had suggested: sewing supplies. They were really going to get some? Anise could finally get a real needle, so she could make repairs to Tokunaga

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[herr_inspektor]

There was a brief moment in which the Nunnally said nothing at all. It was only when Lunge looked up to read her expression (a pause: what is she thinking?) that he caught the tail end of her gaze and realised, suddenly, that there was something in it that should not have been there. An intensity he hadn't seen in her eyes before. Could it be that she'd picked up on...? But that would have been something only someone like L would have recognised, and he'd been careful enough- and yet that one moment of weakness had betrayed him.

He hesitated. What that meant, it seemed, was that he had been underestimating her from the get-go. He hadn't anticipated a notable degree or perception. If that was the case, did that mean that he should come clean about his motivation behind even starting the conversation, if only for the sake of damage control? Probably not. Nunnally didn't seem the type to hold any grudges over it- regardless of how involved she was in his affairs, with a brother like Lelouch it was difficult to imagine that she would be all that put off by a little harmless politicking.

Unless... what he'd seen in her face. Had that been, rather than simple recognition, understanding? In that case, the illness noted from before became rather more interesting: had she been taken as well (don't personalise, Inspector)?

And yet, in an instant, the moment had passed back over to origami and Lelouch, and she was back to focusing on her work. At first he didn't say anything at all, simply watching her almost warily and, perhaps, a little uncertainly, across the table- but then he nodded and tapped at his own paper. "I see. So these would be the legs?"

[jouer_sans_voir]

Though she wasn't looking directly at him there were still tiny cues to indicate emotion, a silent language Nunnally had learned to read well over the years. Soft sounds of movement or the lack thereof, the speed of one's breathing, all small things that most never bothered to pay attention to -- unless they had little else with which to populate the world around them. What it told her was that she had surprised him, made him think, which in turn made her wonder just what he was thinking.

Still, it likely wasn't important, nor was it her business to pester the man with questions. She merely smiled, the expression warm and genuinely friendly, and nodded to the audible question. "Yes, I think that's right." Another couple of careful folds on her own paper brought it to something that looked far more like the illustration in the book, and her smile brightened even more. "I only really know how to fold cranes," she admitted, sounding pleased at her success. "This is a little more complicated than that."

[herr_inspektor]

It hit Lunge then that he'd hit a snag. Maybe it was the smile that had caught him off guard: it was in its warmth so entirely guileless that, for a moment there, he'd been thoroughly wrong-footed by it. Disarmed in an almost literal sense, for what was his mind if not a finely-tuned weapon? Metaphor aside, the fact was that the idea of continuing left a bad taste in his mouth, and that worried him. It wasn't at all like him- or rather, the 'him' he was comfortable with being. That he needed to be here.

It had been there all along, of course, but between his 'session' and visitor it had managed to slide all the closer. It wasn't difficult to make the connection between the young woman sitting in front of him and the young woman he'd met the day before; younger, yes, and physically different in almost every way, but the weakness of the connection didn't matter. The feeling wasn't rational.

He would remove it. "I couldn't tell. You looked as though you knew what you were doing for the most part." Small talk. That was small talk. The paper, now almost recognisably a frog, grew another pair of legs. "Did your brother teach you?" Better.