Ty's expression was warm, and Ford didn't understand it. If Ty was just playing nice in case they were overheard through the hedge, that wasn't reason to force a smile. And his expression didn't look forced, either, which made no sense given the way that they had left things in December. Ford remembered very viscerally the look on Ty's face before he'd swept out of the room that night; remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach and the realization that settled on his shoulders like a weighted cloak: he'll hate me forever. And now here he was, pretending none of it had happened...
Ty introduced himself. Ford stiffened, staring at the proffered hand as though he didn't know what it was. What was Tycho playing at? This could not possibly be done for the benefit of anyone who might overhear, because everyone knew they were friends. Or had been friends — were maybe fighting, were maybe not speaking — didn't need to be re-introduced, anyway. That could only mean that this remark had been calculated for him, but Ford didn't understand to what end. Tycho would have been well within his rights to say something hurtful, but if he'd intended to drive a barb in Ford's heart he could have aimed it better; he knew Ford well enough that he should have been an expert shot. This was baffling, and left Ford with the very unpleasant sensation that he was missing some crucial piece of information — the same confused-but-wary feeling one had when bullies were sniggering and you hadn't yet figured out why.
He took a step backwards as his eyes darted from Tycho's hand to his face. His expression was giving nothing away. Ford felt like he was going crazy. "That's not funny," he said, quiet so that his voice wouldn't carry through the hedge.
Ty introduced himself. Ford stiffened, staring at the proffered hand as though he didn't know what it was. What was Tycho playing at? This could not possibly be done for the benefit of anyone who might overhear, because everyone knew they were friends. Or had been friends — were maybe fighting, were maybe not speaking — didn't need to be re-introduced, anyway. That could only mean that this remark had been calculated for him, but Ford didn't understand to what end. Tycho would have been well within his rights to say something hurtful, but if he'd intended to drive a barb in Ford's heart he could have aimed it better; he knew Ford well enough that he should have been an expert shot. This was baffling, and left Ford with the very unpleasant sensation that he was missing some crucial piece of information — the same confused-but-wary feeling one had when bullies were sniggering and you hadn't yet figured out why.
He took a step backwards as his eyes darted from Tycho's hand to his face. His expression was giving nothing away. Ford felt like he was going crazy. "That's not funny," he said, quiet so that his voice wouldn't carry through the hedge.
Set by Lady!