She looked nervous, and she was looking at him and talking about trust, and that was when Kieran knew that he was right. He had never expected to meet M, for all that he'd been curious — they were friends, or they were pen-pals, or they had at some point become more chatty than simply a researcher-subject relationship.
What would Jude say, if he was here? Kieran wanted to know, suddenly — they had talked about M but not extensively, and Jude had, if anything, been cautious about the whole thing. Kieran had always felt a little protective over his relationship with M: he felt that he had a right to know more about himself and his affliction, and M represented a bridge to the broader world of werewolves that he was curious about. And the money had helped, although he had eventually lost much of his interest in the money — he wasn't so concerned with what M was doing, with his hair or Its fur or with his answers.
And if M was a woman who had to be around his age, who got in trouble with randoms and worked at the House of Lytton and hung out in bookstores, then that was — he hadn't expected it. He had never really envisioned M in the real world at all, it felt too dangerous, and now he — she, evidently, M was a woman — was here in front of him, and was possibly also Marlowe Forfang.
Kieran swallowed. His mouth felt dry. "No, uh — you didn't overstep," he said, "I would say that Forfang's relationship with his subjects is one that has to be bridged on trust. Starting with the smaller details, maybe, before it gets into the bigger things." He tapped his fingertips against the table. He took a sip of his drink and kept his eyes on her.
"Perhaps eventually these bonds grow beyond the typical relationship between researcher and subject," Kieran added, and he was quoting her now, or paraphrasing, or — there was so much he wanted to ask her, all of a sudden, but his heart felt like it was fluttering like a bird trapped in his ribcage.
What would Jude say, if he was here? Kieran wanted to know, suddenly — they had talked about M but not extensively, and Jude had, if anything, been cautious about the whole thing. Kieran had always felt a little protective over his relationship with M: he felt that he had a right to know more about himself and his affliction, and M represented a bridge to the broader world of werewolves that he was curious about. And the money had helped, although he had eventually lost much of his interest in the money — he wasn't so concerned with what M was doing, with his hair or Its fur or with his answers.
And if M was a woman who had to be around his age, who got in trouble with randoms and worked at the House of Lytton and hung out in bookstores, then that was — he hadn't expected it. He had never really envisioned M in the real world at all, it felt too dangerous, and now he — she, evidently, M was a woman — was here in front of him, and was possibly also Marlowe Forfang.
Kieran swallowed. His mouth felt dry. "No, uh — you didn't overstep," he said, "I would say that Forfang's relationship with his subjects is one that has to be bridged on trust. Starting with the smaller details, maybe, before it gets into the bigger things." He tapped his fingertips against the table. He took a sip of his drink and kept his eyes on her.
"Perhaps eventually these bonds grow beyond the typical relationship between researcher and subject," Kieran added, and he was quoting her now, or paraphrasing, or — there was so much he wanted to ask her, all of a sudden, but his heart felt like it was fluttering like a bird trapped in his ribcage.