stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
He was not in the best of places, but still perceptive enough to feel the shift in the atmosphere. From open, exuberant, expectant, to .. closed, burned, as if something in Rory had bitten her soul. It chased the sadness back into his eyes, but he didn't know how to fix it, aside from holding out the apples like an idiot.
Which had an interesting effect. For a time it was like they both had frozen there, trapped in their own insecurities with their demons, but then she met his eyes and smiled, and he thought it wouldn't be so bad after all. Whatever had happened, they had managed to salvage some of it, steer it back on course. A tentative smile began to form on his lips when someone knocked on the door, bringing it open, and though Rory felt like whirling around in a mild panic, all he did was turn his head and watch over his shoulder.
It was a woman, with a mane of red hair, and a figure that was somehow showing despite the heavy clothing of the season. She held a bottle of something, but made no effort to speak; Rory turned to look quizzically at Amalia, who launched into the thing with bravado, though she seemed uncertain at the same time. Rory felt something in his eyes soften, and he gave her a small, encouraging nod.
But then it became an actual question. He managed to save himself from an undignified oh, what? yes, instead setting his apples down on the counter. "Yes," he confirmed, and though it was just a single word again, there was warmth in it. It wasn't his place to ask anyone to join in, and besides, who knew what commerce she was there for, but Rory slid past to where Amalia was standing, figuring it was enough of an invitation. He gave her a moment to sort her customer out while redoing his hair, putting it into a neater braid.
He didn't feel entirely comfortable going through her entire bakery looking for things when she had a customer looking on, so he settled for finding a cutting board, a sharp, small knife, and then polished the apples absently on his—clean!—shirtsleeve as he waited. There was no point in cutting up the apples already with no dough to stick them in yet. And besides, maybe Amalia's apple cake recipes required them to be cut in fancy shapes, like stars or cats or something.
Which had an interesting effect. For a time it was like they both had frozen there, trapped in their own insecurities with their demons, but then she met his eyes and smiled, and he thought it wouldn't be so bad after all. Whatever had happened, they had managed to salvage some of it, steer it back on course. A tentative smile began to form on his lips when someone knocked on the door, bringing it open, and though Rory felt like whirling around in a mild panic, all he did was turn his head and watch over his shoulder.
It was a woman, with a mane of red hair, and a figure that was somehow showing despite the heavy clothing of the season. She held a bottle of something, but made no effort to speak; Rory turned to look quizzically at Amalia, who launched into the thing with bravado, though she seemed uncertain at the same time. Rory felt something in his eyes soften, and he gave her a small, encouraging nod.
But then it became an actual question. He managed to save himself from an undignified oh, what? yes, instead setting his apples down on the counter. "Yes," he confirmed, and though it was just a single word again, there was warmth in it. It wasn't his place to ask anyone to join in, and besides, who knew what commerce she was there for, but Rory slid past to where Amalia was standing, figuring it was enough of an invitation. He gave her a moment to sort her customer out while redoing his hair, putting it into a neater braid.
He didn't feel entirely comfortable going through her entire bakery looking for things when she had a customer looking on, so he settled for finding a cutting board, a sharp, small knife, and then polished the apples absently on his—clean!—shirtsleeve as he waited. There was no point in cutting up the apples already with no dough to stick them in yet. And besides, maybe Amalia's apple cake recipes required them to be cut in fancy shapes, like stars or cats or something.
