[OOC: Millitimed to when this was actually posted! Sometimes I fail at punctuality.]
The notes appear stacked together, with the first one on top. As he reads it, Cal's face turns expressionless, taking on the carefully crafted blank mask that politics taught him to wear in moments of vulnerability. Moments when he couldn't afford to let anyone know that a blow had hit its target.
( Another form letter, from another person he'd thought -
But then, he can't really blame Chandler, can he? The note as good as tells him where the blame lies, doesn't it? He can't argue with that.)
The surprise of finding, as he sets that note aside, that the second one is also in Chandler's handwriting startles the mask away before he even reads a word.
And as he does read it, the painfully precise tension that had begun gathering eases before it can finish settling in. He doesn't look any happier, but he's not trying to hide his reaction, either. He reads it again, then pockets both notes and leaves without ordering the raktajino he'd come in for.
The notes appear stacked together, with the first one on top. As he reads it, Cal's face turns expressionless, taking on the carefully crafted blank mask that politics taught him to wear in moments of vulnerability. Moments when he couldn't afford to let anyone know that a blow had hit its target.
( Another form letter, from another person he'd thought -
But then, he can't really blame Chandler, can he? The note as good as tells him where the blame lies, doesn't it? He can't argue with that.)
The surprise of finding, as he sets that note aside, that the second one is also in Chandler's handwriting startles the mask away before he even reads a word.
And as he does read it, the painfully precise tension that had begun gathering eases before it can finish settling in. He doesn't look any happier, but he's not trying to hide his reaction, either. He reads it again, then pockets both notes and leaves without ordering the raktajino he'd come in for.
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