If Ford had been at all in doubt over what she thought of the conversation's tone so far, her response would have settled it. Romanticism, matters of the heart. She certainly thought that he'd had some sort of ulterior motive in talking about poetry, which was quite reasonable he supposed. It really wasn't the sort of thing people did at parties, and maybe the connection to what they'd been discussing had been lost on her, no matter what she said. Or maybe she saw the connection but simply didn't believe that any sane man would quote poetry at someone without a hidden agenda. Maybe a sane man wouldn't — Ford felt sane, but Noble had found the entire matter incomprehensible, so — it was hard to say which of their perspectives was accurate.
This thought — that something he had already said might reasonably be attributed to him trying to flirt or as him being off but probably to nothing else — made the stakes a little higher. It pushed him slightly more towards leaning in to the flirting direction, though he still had his reservations. If he didn't make any overt overtures there was no harm done, right? Should he offer to get her another drink, or ask her to dance? Or were those actions too concrete to leave him blameless at the end of the night if she left disappointed? Either scenario seemed less damning than anything he could think to say in response to her line about not being able to write what was in her heart.
"I'm not sure you can call that an introduction," he said with a shrug and a half-smile. "I hardly did him justice. I'm not actually very poetic either, no matter how much of it I read," he continued, though honestly he didn't know how much of that was true and how much was measuring with an inaccurate rule; being so closely entwined with Tycho for so long, who actually wrote poems all day and night, may have skewed his perception somewhat of how poetic the average person really was. "Someone told me once that I'd write poetry if I ever fell in love, but —" Ford had to bite his tongue before he could continue I haven't found that to be true. A sentence which would have been damning, because it implied that he already had been or was currently in love, which wasn't something he wanted anyone speculating about.
"— I think that rather misses the point," Ford continued, because if he could not say something honest then he would have to say something earnest instead. Better would have been not to have brought this up at all, but it was too late for that. "If you're not inspired to write poetry until you have something lovely to write about, you couldn't possibly write poetry that's any good."
This thought — that something he had already said might reasonably be attributed to him trying to flirt or as him being off but probably to nothing else — made the stakes a little higher. It pushed him slightly more towards leaning in to the flirting direction, though he still had his reservations. If he didn't make any overt overtures there was no harm done, right? Should he offer to get her another drink, or ask her to dance? Or were those actions too concrete to leave him blameless at the end of the night if she left disappointed? Either scenario seemed less damning than anything he could think to say in response to her line about not being able to write what was in her heart.
"I'm not sure you can call that an introduction," he said with a shrug and a half-smile. "I hardly did him justice. I'm not actually very poetic either, no matter how much of it I read," he continued, though honestly he didn't know how much of that was true and how much was measuring with an inaccurate rule; being so closely entwined with Tycho for so long, who actually wrote poems all day and night, may have skewed his perception somewhat of how poetic the average person really was. "Someone told me once that I'd write poetry if I ever fell in love, but —" Ford had to bite his tongue before he could continue I haven't found that to be true. A sentence which would have been damning, because it implied that he already had been or was currently in love, which wasn't something he wanted anyone speculating about.
"— I think that rather misses the point," Ford continued, because if he could not say something honest then he would have to say something earnest instead. Better would have been not to have brought this up at all, but it was too late for that. "If you're not inspired to write poetry until you have something lovely to write about, you couldn't possibly write poetry that's any good."
Set by Lady!