[ adam doesn't need eye contact to know that he's being addressed, but even so he doesn't immediately respond. instead, he takes his time with his own breakfast, pushing some of the thin apple skin away with his fingertips and biting equally into fresh and spoiled flesh. strangely, he doesn't seem to chew - at least not right away, holding the fruit in his mouth, the muscles of his jaw flexing subtly. he looks away only out of courtesy, not because he's ashamed, and focuses his attention on peeling the rest of the apple skin away, knuckles tacky with sugar.
idly, one of the moths clings to the back of his hand. adam leaves it there. with his other hand, he flips the champagne flute over between his knuckles, the way one might twirl a pen, and drops the fruit skins into it careful not to jostle his little insect friend. finally, he chews and swallows, and then shakes his head, his gaze reconnecting again. his pupils are, perhaps, wider than they should be.
instead of answering, he says: ] You didn't even look up.
[ mildly curious, but mostly just - an observation, stated plainly in a voice that maybe doesn't match, with a low, consistent vibration threaded through the words. ]
no subject
idly, one of the moths clings to the back of his hand. adam leaves it there. with his other hand, he flips the champagne flute over between his knuckles, the way one might twirl a pen, and drops the fruit skins into it careful not to jostle his little insect friend. finally, he chews and swallows, and then shakes his head, his gaze reconnecting again. his pupils are, perhaps, wider than they should be.
instead of answering, he says: ] You didn't even look up.
[ mildly curious, but mostly just - an observation, stated plainly in a voice that maybe doesn't match, with a low, consistent vibration threaded through the words. ]