[ Bastien takes a breath, preparing to say something, and then he looks away and lets the breath out in silence. It’s what he would want. To not feel gawked at.
But then, that might make him look like he’s embarrassed for her. Like it’s indecent. Maybe if he’d kept the tray and had something to arrange, so looking away didn’t mean standing there beside the bed with his head turned toward the wall—because he can’t look at Byerly, he would hate that even more than being gawked at, to feel people exchanging looks over his head—
And he thinks of her in the dream, the distant hazy picture of her furious with him for hiding his tears, and he looks back at her. ]
no subject
But then, that might make him look like he’s embarrassed for her. Like it’s indecent. Maybe if he’d kept the tray and had something to arrange, so looking away didn’t mean standing there beside the bed with his head turned toward the wall—because he can’t look at Byerly, he would hate that even more than being gawked at, to feel people exchanging looks over his head—
And he thinks of her in the dream, the distant hazy picture of her furious with him for hiding his tears, and he looks back at her. ]
Tu vas bien, Alexandrie.