Alfred answered the question of brandy with a wary nod. This did seem to have the air of a prepared conversation, something Evander had been sitting on and thinking over for a while, and he was cautious of what might come next. He'd likely have to endure some degree of small talk before they got around to it, though, knowing Evander. That would be only polite. What he said next, though, was... not polite small talk. Alfred blinked at his brother. Did he? He felt tired most nights, but it had never occurred to him that it would carry through to his appearance and be obvious to others. (What else showed on his face? Could the nurse read plainly that he always experienced a surge of panic when she announced that she was leaving for the day?)
He shifted in his chair and hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as the question made him feel. "Just the normal things, I expect," he said, turning his attention to his brandy. And how was it that Evander didn't look tired, anyway? He was in generally the same position, with two children of comparable ages. Maybe he did look tired; maybe it just wasn't so noticeable because Evander had been looking tired since he was twelve.
He shifted in his chair and hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as the question made him feel. "Just the normal things, I expect," he said, turning his attention to his brandy. And how was it that Evander didn't look tired, anyway? He was in generally the same position, with two children of comparable ages. Maybe he did look tired; maybe it just wasn't so noticeable because Evander had been looking tired since he was twelve.
MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER