[ Bastien has finished his water; he has dealt with the chamber pot, evidenced by the laces on his trousers, retightened but not retied. Maybe he fell asleep for a few minutes, too, but he woke up as soon as there were footsteps outside the door.
He turns his head on the pillow with every intention of looking unimpressed. But Byerly’s such a beloved noisy show-off, bearing bacon and coffee and wearing Bastien’s shirt, and he can’t do it. Instead he sighs, more like a lovesick teenager than an exasperated tutor. ]
no subject
[ Bastien has finished his water; he has dealt with the chamber pot, evidenced by the laces on his trousers, retightened but not retied. Maybe he fell asleep for a few minutes, too, but he woke up as soon as there were footsteps outside the door.
He turns his head on the pillow with every intention of looking unimpressed. But Byerly’s such a beloved noisy show-off, bearing bacon and coffee and wearing Bastien’s shirt, and he can’t do it. Instead he sighs, more like a lovesick teenager than an exasperated tutor. ]
Maker.