(no subject)
Gilbert has a knack for investing commonplace acts with more feeling and purpose than they should actually have.
Today, drinking from the tall glass of iced tea set before him has become a particularly vicious performance. He clasps it in one hand like the cold is unbearable, a little grimace suppressed on his face - until he manages to drink, at which point it peeks through with a slightly curled lip and a scowl. And each drink inevitably turns into a sudden swig, as if he were either chugging booze or trying to down poison as quickly as possible.
Then the glass goes back onto the Bar, and the whole process starts again. He's getting down to just ice cubes, by this point. The funny thing, though, is that the tea's not even bad. It's just been a...rougher day than usual, and his drink's getting the worst of it.
For now.
The narration, in other words, cannot guarantee his good behavior, this morning.
Today, drinking from the tall glass of iced tea set before him has become a particularly vicious performance. He clasps it in one hand like the cold is unbearable, a little grimace suppressed on his face - until he manages to drink, at which point it peeks through with a slightly curled lip and a scowl. And each drink inevitably turns into a sudden swig, as if he were either chugging booze or trying to down poison as quickly as possible.
Then the glass goes back onto the Bar, and the whole process starts again. He's getting down to just ice cubes, by this point. The funny thing, though, is that the tea's not even bad. It's just been a...rougher day than usual, and his drink's getting the worst of it.
For now.
The narration, in other words, cannot guarantee his good behavior, this morning.