Verso takes the book from her, holding it up without actually looking at it yet. He's too busy saying, "Then I shall dedicate myself to predicting your every move." A moment of thought, then: "You're going to roll your eyes."
Oh, the supreme well of willpower it takes to defy the fate he writes for her. It cascades over her expression — a blink that's a little too forceful, a press of her lips, a certain way she turns her head away to look for another book.
When she finds that second resource, she doesn't so much hand it to him as press it firmly against his chest with a slight shove.
"Here," Jasnah bites back on a smirk, "this should help decipher the glyphs."
Ooh, but fondly annoying someone is to Verso as an intellectual argument is to Jasnah: profoundly satisfying. He presses his lips together in an attempt to suppress the grin spreading across his face as she shoves the second book at him, but it doesn't work. His smug delight is inextinguishable.
"All right." He holds both books to his chest. "Then it looks like we both have some homework to do before our next lessons. I expect you to practice your footwork, danseuse."
Freezeframe on the moment, as she pins the book in place just a beat longer than necessary. A beat beyond when he assumes the responsibility of holding it all on his own. The idea that she'll be alone, in her study, going through those waltzing motions is laughable. But she tries, tries, tries to take it as seriously as she expects him to take his homework.
"Don't dismiss those proverbs," she nods to the first, other book before letting her hand drop. "I'll expect you to come prepared, next time, to explain the relevance of at least one or two in our next match."
Look, he's the one who called it homework — so she assigns some properly.
Unfortunately, Verso is totally hot for teacher, so this homework assignation hardly fazes him. In fact, he might actually enjoy it. There's nothing particularly exciting about poring over a book of proverbs, but there is something satisfying about doing it because Jasnah told him to. No, he won't be seeking therapy at this time.
For one moment longer than he needs to, he lingers in this companionable space. Then he slips away, books snug in his arms.
He'd only stayed this long because she'd interceded on his last exit — feeling some small spike of shame, Jasnah manages to contain any inclination to stop him again. She can't (she shouldn't) monopolize his nighttime hours. She can't (she shouldn't) ask him to be her musical accompaniment until she passes out at her desk. She can't (she shouldn't) follow him back to steal his bed yet again.
So — exercising some of that impressive willpower — she nods her way through his segue.
"Of course. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your scholarship."
He has the fleeting desire to stick around and read in that chair while she works, but unlike her can'ts, there are some things he really can't do. While he likes to think of them as equals, even he has to acknowledge that there's a power dynamic here. One that allows Jasnah to keep and dismiss him as she pleases, but doesn't let him do the same. Besides, it's late. They should really stop spending so much time together at night. For someone who cares so much about appearances, she doesn't seem to wonder enough if that'll reflect well on her.
Verso tucks the books underneath his arm and, very boldly, reaches out to touch the very tips of his fingers to her upper arm. It's far less physical contact than they'd had when waltzing, but he somehow feels nervous about it regardless.
"—Well, good night."
And then it's over, and he's absconding back to his quarters.
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When she finds that second resource, she doesn't so much hand it to him as press it firmly against his chest with a slight shove.
"Here," Jasnah bites back on a smirk, "this should help decipher the glyphs."
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"All right." He holds both books to his chest. "Then it looks like we both have some homework to do before our next lessons. I expect you to practice your footwork, danseuse."
no subject
"Don't dismiss those proverbs," she nods to the first, other book before letting her hand drop. "I'll expect you to come prepared, next time, to explain the relevance of at least one or two in our next match."
Look, he's the one who called it homework — so she assigns some properly.
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For one moment longer than he needs to, he lingers in this companionable space. Then he slips away, books snug in his arms.
"Then I guess I should start reading."
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So — exercising some of that impressive willpower — she nods her way through his segue.
"Of course. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your scholarship."
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Verso tucks the books underneath his arm and, very boldly, reaches out to touch the very tips of his fingers to her upper arm. It's far less physical contact than they'd had when waltzing, but he somehow feels nervous about it regardless.
"—Well, good night."
And then it's over, and he's absconding back to his quarters.
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