He threw up his hands in an open shrug, as if the heavens might look down and tell him what going on, because so far he was utterly nonplussed. Oz’s behaviour was – disconcerting, to say the least. Endymion had never been so perturbed by someone smiling.
His eyebrows knitted in continued, unchallenged consternation. “Interests you?” Dymion repeated. “Is interest the best you can do?” Interest was the sort of thing one ascribed to a thought-provoking book or a diverting puzzle or an enlightening museum exhibit or a pastime, not a person; particularly not a woman one was making their wife. Perhaps he meant attracted to her, but surely that was a fleeting fancy too, not strong enough a lasting feeling. And fine, everyone knew Ozymandias was the intellectual one in the family, thought him cool and caustic and clever – but had he really never had one honest flash of emotion in his life?
He presumed Miss Pomfrey knew what she was getting into as well – but if she did, Endymion didn’t understand her. He didn’t understand either of them, in fact. He was still quite incredulous. “And she’ll interest you forever, you suppose?”
His eyebrows knitted in continued, unchallenged consternation. “Interests you?” Dymion repeated. “Is interest the best you can do?” Interest was the sort of thing one ascribed to a thought-provoking book or a diverting puzzle or an enlightening museum exhibit or a pastime, not a person; particularly not a woman one was making their wife. Perhaps he meant attracted to her, but surely that was a fleeting fancy too, not strong enough a lasting feeling. And fine, everyone knew Ozymandias was the intellectual one in the family, thought him cool and caustic and clever – but had he really never had one honest flash of emotion in his life?
He presumed Miss Pomfrey knew what she was getting into as well – but if she did, Endymion didn’t understand her. He didn’t understand either of them, in fact. He was still quite incredulous. “And she’ll interest you forever, you suppose?”
