Her response was flat and almost entirely non-descript, her tone a little tremulous. He’d be able to tell more from her face, he imagined, if only he could bear to look.
Instead, he looked at the aisle of shelves behind her, and down at her hands curled around the book, like he hadn't seen them that way a hundred times before.
“You know it's not what I want,” Tyb protested, chancing a glance upwards, in hope that she wouldn't think he was happy about this. The dull acceptance of her alright was not the answer he’d been looking for, either: he had half-slung his hopes upon Elsie having some smart idea he just hadn't thought of, that she might stand up to him the way she’d stood up for herself that night.
But she didn't, and it was probably for the best that she didn't, because Tybalt knew better than to think he had enough control of his selfishness to not give in instantly. Giving up quidditch, giving up Elsie, both at once - it’d be character-building. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
“Not forever,” he added lamely, “I don’t mean forever, just - until things are different.” Since he did not yet have a strict time plan of when that would be - and if he had, Tybalt could hardly pretend it to call it soon - he wasn’t sure how much he believed himself. Elsie was a patient person, sure. But that patient, for him? It seemed unlikely.
Instead, he looked at the aisle of shelves behind her, and down at her hands curled around the book, like he hadn't seen them that way a hundred times before.
“You know it's not what I want,” Tyb protested, chancing a glance upwards, in hope that she wouldn't think he was happy about this. The dull acceptance of her alright was not the answer he’d been looking for, either: he had half-slung his hopes upon Elsie having some smart idea he just hadn't thought of, that she might stand up to him the way she’d stood up for herself that night.
But she didn't, and it was probably for the best that she didn't, because Tybalt knew better than to think he had enough control of his selfishness to not give in instantly. Giving up quidditch, giving up Elsie, both at once - it’d be character-building. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
“Not forever,” he added lamely, “I don’t mean forever, just - until things are different.” Since he did not yet have a strict time plan of when that would be - and if he had, Tybalt could hardly pretend it to call it soon - he wasn’t sure how much he believed himself. Elsie was a patient person, sure. But that patient, for him? It seemed unlikely.
