For a second he actually smiles: small and wry, but genuine, an expression that belongs on his face, though it's gone before she can even turn her head. "I haven't done anything at all yet."
It's hard to say which he finds more disconcerting, her straightforward kindness, which he doesn't know what to do with, or that utterly familiar edge of exasperation. He answers mildly, careful not to glance back at her. "So, I haven't done anything."
He tests the point of the trowel against the earth, and then, with a mental shrug, starts in. The handle fits so smoothly against his palm that his stomach flutters, and he has to breathe against another surge of dizzy panic, wondering if he - if this other -
Observe, don't wonder. Focus on the musty smell of soil, the color of it, as it swallows the metal edge, until the sensation of being disembodied fades.
"Not yet," she answers, and stops to carefully pry apart a clump of bulbs that will do better if they're separated. "You're going to dig holes, though."
"I guess I am," amiably. "May as well start earning my keep."
He nudges the loose soil aside with the back of the trowel, the way he's seen her doing. Digs deeper. The motion is unfamiliar, for which he's strangely grateful. Angle the blade downward, sliding under; push with the heel of your hand. Lever a handful of dirt loose, lift it out. It's not difficult - just not something he can do without thought, without noticing.
"Sure," she says. This time it's a little warmer, a little more amused, a little 'I could bicker with you about something in there, but am choosing not to.'
no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-01 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-01 02:24 am (UTC)She's rolling her eyes at you, Cassian Andor. Can you hear her doing it?
no subject
Date: 2019-02-02 03:04 am (UTC)He tests the point of the trowel against the earth, and then, with a mental shrug, starts in. The handle fits so smoothly against his palm that his stomach flutters, and he has to breathe against another surge of dizzy panic, wondering if he - if this other -
Observe, don't wonder. Focus on the musty smell of soil, the color of it, as it swallows the metal edge, until the sensation of being disembodied fades.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-07 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-07 03:15 am (UTC)He nudges the loose soil aside with the back of the trowel, the way he's seen her doing. Digs deeper. The motion is unfamiliar, for which he's strangely grateful. Angle the blade downward, sliding under; push with the heel of your hand. Lever a handful of dirt loose, lift it out. It's not difficult - just not something he can do without thought, without noticing.
It helps a little.
no subject
Date: 2019-10-29 11:18 pm (UTC)