“Fine,” Jude agreed, moving towards the couch and dropping onto it, telling himself more forcefully that this was fine, this was fine and not strange at all. Well, beside the fact that he had never once forgotten how to sit on a couch until this precise moment; suddenly his back was stiff and his hands were awkwardly on his knees and his feet on the floor like he was going to spring up and flee in a second. And perhaps he should have tried to take stock of himself somewhere between the Augurey and now - should have at least bothered to glance in the reflection of the kettle or the back of a teaspoon or something - because now he was quietly cursing himself and more self-conscious than he had ever been and shifting in place on the couch, reconsidering.
Whether Kieran had sensed this burst of nerves or not, he had just provided a lifeline; books under the coffee table were an immediate rescue, and he leant forwards a little to scan the titles and pull one out. Not that it mattered, really; it was enough of a crutch already just sitting on his lap, something for his fingers to flick through. If he got bored, Kieran had said: as if Jude ever got bored, as if he possibly could be bored in Kieran’s company. (Not always for good reasons - but not always for bad, either.)
“Can you still talk while you paint, or do you need to - focus?” Jude said on that note, raising his eyebrows curiously as he looked over. If it wasn’t too much distraction, he would happily take conversation over reading, even if it was terribly mundane or a topic over his head like Kieran talking about paints. Still, Jude had crooked up a knee now and absently tucked his foot under him where he sat, like he was settling in to read, and was relaxing fractionally for it. If he didn’t look straight in front of him, maybe he could pretend there was not a canvas unfurled on the floorboards, or that Kieran was working on something else.
Whether Kieran had sensed this burst of nerves or not, he had just provided a lifeline; books under the coffee table were an immediate rescue, and he leant forwards a little to scan the titles and pull one out. Not that it mattered, really; it was enough of a crutch already just sitting on his lap, something for his fingers to flick through. If he got bored, Kieran had said: as if Jude ever got bored, as if he possibly could be bored in Kieran’s company. (Not always for good reasons - but not always for bad, either.)
“Can you still talk while you paint, or do you need to - focus?” Jude said on that note, raising his eyebrows curiously as he looked over. If it wasn’t too much distraction, he would happily take conversation over reading, even if it was terribly mundane or a topic over his head like Kieran talking about paints. Still, Jude had crooked up a knee now and absently tucked his foot under him where he sat, like he was settling in to read, and was relaxing fractionally for it. If he didn’t look straight in front of him, maybe he could pretend there was not a canvas unfurled on the floorboards, or that Kieran was working on something else.
