Hester
Tight hold on that hope
Somehow, Korbin holding his hands up, out, answered everything and nothing. How has he gotten like that, what had happened? Would it fade, did it hurt, could he learn something less contingent on his hands? But the wordless answer is not enough to even really formulate a real question, not when there's so much she'd need to ask, and she can recognize, in her affected state, that that particular line of questioning is too much.
"Do you drink while you work a lot?" She asks, instead of mentioning his hands, one of her fingers twirling through her hair, twisting a long lock into a loose curl. There's nothing but a quiet curiosity in her voice, the way he seems to settle as he drinks not missed by her.
It's a little confusing, a lot alarming to hear supplies running low, though Hester realizes after a moment he means in the bar itself, not Snowcloak as a whole. With the extra people, it makes sense. Still, it does put her dream of a week filled with music and chatter on hold, until she found out where people were staying instead. "I guess that makes sense."
At the question, it's Hester's turn to let her eyes drop, back down to her empty glass, though it doesn't stop her answering, an almost rushed tone in her voice. "No, not really. We stay with my sister usually, but," There's a pause, while words weigh themselves on her tongue, liquor loosening it enough to let them slip, to confide in a stranger, "her husband died, in the attack. I wasn't close with him, but everyone else..." A shrug, and brown eyes rising up to look into a pale mask again. "I don't want to spend the week in that."
"Do you drink while you work a lot?" She asks, instead of mentioning his hands, one of her fingers twirling through her hair, twisting a long lock into a loose curl. There's nothing but a quiet curiosity in her voice, the way he seems to settle as he drinks not missed by her.
It's a little confusing, a lot alarming to hear supplies running low, though Hester realizes after a moment he means in the bar itself, not Snowcloak as a whole. With the extra people, it makes sense. Still, it does put her dream of a week filled with music and chatter on hold, until she found out where people were staying instead. "I guess that makes sense."
At the question, it's Hester's turn to let her eyes drop, back down to her empty glass, though it doesn't stop her answering, an almost rushed tone in her voice. "No, not really. We stay with my sister usually, but," There's a pause, while words weigh themselves on her tongue, liquor loosening it enough to let them slip, to confide in a stranger, "her husband died, in the attack. I wasn't close with him, but everyone else..." A shrug, and brown eyes rising up to look into a pale mask again. "I don't want to spend the week in that."
Sometimes it could seem so cold
Do what you gotta do to cope
