in my heart i can fly.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe chooses not to accompany Henry to his workplace, though she probably will at some time or another--she is genuinely curious about it, but Huan requires soothing, so she takes the time to settle him in once she's alone at the house.

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[beingtwofold]

Henry, 'the disciplinarian,' puts Huan in his bed in the washing-room when he gets back (after taking in the scene of woman, dog and wineglass, at which his expression was half fond, half consternation; thus the dog is away and not bounding merrily around the house), then returns to sit on the couch with Hasibe, letting the movie flicker in front of them in companionable silence for a few minutes before he finda whatever they have that passes for a remote and shuts it off with a sigh.

Hasi knows him well enough by now to know there's something on his mind, and there are a lot of somethings this particular late evening, one of which actually is the little girl and her dead thing (he couldn't see it, but he could feel it, and that's something to think about on its own, like having one pair of eyes open while numerous others stay closed), but it isn't his most pressing concern. After a while he stirs himself out of this wordless reverie and loops his arms over her shoulders, a familiar gesture for an unfamiliar conversation

[oleanderknife]

She can definitely tell there is something going on, but assumes it was the scene in the bar, too--when he sits with her she curls against him automatically with a little smile, their greeting wordless, fond, her lips brushing his cheek at one point in a gesture of absent affection. But then he does speak, and she pauses, one hand on his knee, dark hair now loose (one of the first things that she did when she got home) and brushing the back of the sofa when she shrugs.

"Just the nuances of the Nexus, I suppose, and what I can't really do about it. It's not too pressing, though, I think I'm mostly not thinking about anything."

She actually sets her wine glass down on the end table nearest so she can focus on him and their conversation; it's not entirely a coping mechanism, because if it were she would have automatically gone for something harder, but it is definitely telling, all the same. "What's on your mind?"

[beingtwofold]

As is so often the case he doesn't answer quite immediately, even though he knew the question was coming there isn't an easy way to answer, and he has spent enough time trying to find one to know anything that resembles 'easy' is also not very true.

"Before I say anything I want it noted that this isn't a snap observation I'm making," he starts, which ...surely heralds nothing heavy, not with an opening like that, "I have weighed the merits of discussing this for a while, and I'm bringing it up because--you are so important to me, you're the most important thing in my life, so I promise I would never try to make you feel guilty about anything, but I think you should know that I'm starting to worry about how much you drink."

He does manage to maintain eye contact for having delivered ...all of that, it seems fair. "I hope this doesn't seem like I'm blindsiding you, or that I'm upset with you or--anything, I'm not. I just--I need you to be around, and to be okay, and I want to be able to be honest."

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe is quietly attentive throughout this, but she does (notably) stiffen up somewhat when he gets to the crucial bit there. She understands that he is just concerned, but she looks visibly taken aback by this, and after a moment pushes down her bizarre instinctively defensive response. She glances from Henry to her wine glass and back again, as though a solution lies between them. Still, her instinct is to reassure; she can tell by how carefully he's saying this he's also worried about bringing it up