He was lucky it was her, Ford thought, not for the first time. He could not yet feel fortunate at the circumstance of being married at all, and it was possible he never would, but if one removed that bit from the equation — if one supposed it an inevitability that he would be forced into a hasty marriage with a woman he hardly knew at an inopportune moment in his life — then he was lucky it was her. Because he knew she was lying when she said she was well. He could notice little things like the way she was twisting the hairbrush or the hesitation before she sat on the bed, which felt just half a step out of sync with the brightness of her tone. Even if she didn't have a single tell, he could have guessed how she was based only on what he knew of her situation, with the rumors and his family and everything else. But even so she held her chin up and kept her tone light; she really was determined to make the best of it. After the pressure build-up of the last four days, he was so grateful for it he could have kissed her straight off.
"No, just busy," he said with a light shake of his head, because there was no other descriptor of his mood over the last four days that he wanted to bring into this room and lay within the space between them. He had (somewhat subconsciously) been expecting to be burdened with some of her complaints when he came over tonight, and just because she wasn't inclined to give him any didn't mean he needed to fill the gaps in with complaints of his own. He moved further into her room, eyes flickering once between the chair at her vanity and the bed where she'd sat as he decided which direction to go. He veered towards the bed and sat beside her, not touching her yet — but he leaned his arm back on the bed at an angle, so that if she was inclined to close the distance it wouldn't take much. "How do you like the room?" he asked. He'd asked the same question when he presented it to her, on the day they'd returned from their honeymoon, but it felt a materially different inquiry now that she'd had a chance to actually live in it.
"No, just busy," he said with a light shake of his head, because there was no other descriptor of his mood over the last four days that he wanted to bring into this room and lay within the space between them. He had (somewhat subconsciously) been expecting to be burdened with some of her complaints when he came over tonight, and just because she wasn't inclined to give him any didn't mean he needed to fill the gaps in with complaints of his own. He moved further into her room, eyes flickering once between the chair at her vanity and the bed where she'd sat as he decided which direction to go. He veered towards the bed and sat beside her, not touching her yet — but he leaned his arm back on the bed at an angle, so that if she was inclined to close the distance it wouldn't take much. "How do you like the room?" he asked. He'd asked the same question when he presented it to her, on the day they'd returned from their honeymoon, but it felt a materially different inquiry now that she'd had a chance to actually live in it.
Set by Lady!