It is a gesture missed by Gabranth, who recognizes none of its subtlety. Jone's smile, however—
He makes a faint noise in his throat in response, masking the almost imperceptibly upturned edge of his mouth by glancing away: the door to some narrow restaurant occupying the whole of his focus instead, stooping slightly to enter its slanted frame.
He imagines Jone will have more trouble.
Once inside, the woman at the counter flashes a meager grin— one he seemingly ignores in favor of fitting himself nearer to the wall beside the entrance, a clear sign of deference to Jone’s own presence.
Go on, then. You’ve staked your claim. Tend to your traditions.
no subject
He makes a faint noise in his throat in response, masking the almost imperceptibly upturned edge of his mouth by glancing away: the door to some narrow restaurant occupying the whole of his focus instead, stooping slightly to enter its slanted frame.
He imagines Jone will have more trouble.
Once inside, the woman at the counter flashes a meager grin— one he seemingly ignores in favor of fitting himself nearer to the wall beside the entrance, a clear sign of deference to Jone’s own presence.
Go on, then. You’ve staked your claim. Tend to your traditions.