Reality Testing and an Introduction
A tall man, handsome, straight backed, is in one of the hedge gardens, pacing the boxwood and peering intently at the grass, the sky, the trees, the shrubs themselves. When he comes to flowers (fading now) he examines them closely - are they missing petals, he seems to be asking, where are the patterns, are there any?
He has a satchel over his shoulder, and he leaves one hand on the strap at all times, even when he crouches down, the pristine black cuffs of his trousers brushing back against the grass, to look at someone else’s footprint in a minor muddy spot.
He traces it, carefully, wipes his hand off on the grass, and reaches out to - quite deliberately - close his hand tight on a sturdy, spiky rosebush stem.
“Ow,” he says, and manages to make the one syllable wryly rueful.
Meet Grant, from C.J. Cherryh’s novel, Cyteen
He has a satchel over his shoulder, and he leaves one hand on the strap at all times, even when he crouches down, the pristine black cuffs of his trousers brushing back against the grass, to look at someone else’s footprint in a minor muddy spot.
He traces it, carefully, wipes his hand off on the grass, and reaches out to - quite deliberately - close his hand tight on a sturdy, spiky rosebush stem.
“Ow,” he says, and manages to make the one syllable wryly rueful.
Meet Grant, from C.J. Cherryh’s novel, Cyteen