[Her husband. Well. The look on her face is enough to assume that it's probably not a topic he should inquire about further, if they want to avoid depressing topics for the evening. She'd already been vocal about not wishing to discuss morbid things, and he assumes that whatever's put the bitter little quirk in her mouth and in the tone of her voice qualifies as yet another thing that shouldn't be discussed.
So he just nods politely. That's the safe thing to do (not that he always cares about being safe -- in fact, half the time, he seems to go out of his way to avoid being safe entirely, always pushing things too far, always taking the risks he shouldn't; it's a constant problem, but not one that he's figured out how to put a stop to.)]
Sure, thanks.
[He moves towards the bench, an odd combination of tentativeness and confidence in his gait, and sits down beside her. Not too close, not inappropriately so, but then, it's not a large bench, either.]
D'you come to a lot of parties?
[She seems like the type, and maybe that's all he wants to know. Or maybe it's a question of whether he's likely to run into her again.]
no subject
So he just nods politely. That's the safe thing to do (not that he always cares about being safe -- in fact, half the time, he seems to go out of his way to avoid being safe entirely, always pushing things too far, always taking the risks he shouldn't; it's a constant problem, but not one that he's figured out how to put a stop to.)]
Sure, thanks.
[He moves towards the bench, an odd combination of tentativeness and confidence in his gait, and sits down beside her. Not too close, not inappropriately so, but then, it's not a large bench, either.]
D'you come to a lot of parties?
[She seems like the type, and maybe that's all he wants to know. Or maybe it's a question of whether he's likely to run into her again.]