"I don't get why," he prods back, and for a second — just a second — that mask of the Very Serious Steely Leader collapses like a black hole and he's just a teenager like the rest of them, plaintive and teasing. "There's so many different colours and complex pieces. I think it's like the satisfaction of painting your nails but multiply it by, like, twenty."
There was never enough time to finish his projects in one go, either. There were so many models scattered in pieces around his bedroom: Saturn V half-painted on the table, a WWII airplane half-assembled on a shelf. Luther rotated projects in their sparing free time, letting the paint dry on some while he went back to jotting pieces together in another. It was slow, patient, careful work — initially granted by the Monocle as an excuse for dexterity training, not that Luther knew it — and it kept him busy.
"I keep asking the others to join me in tackling a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle down in the rec room, too, and nobody ever says yes."
Because it's boring, Luther.
He keeps talking, though, while his fingers curl around Allison's hand and the slightly bitter chemical scent of the paint fills his nostrils and he works his way from fingernail to fingernail. Talking about banalities is keeping him sane, and preventing his thoughts from just dissolving into a mess right here and now over the fact that they are so close; that his knee is bumping against hers; that he can hear the sound of her breath.
no subject
There was never enough time to finish his projects in one go, either. There were so many models scattered in pieces around his bedroom: Saturn V half-painted on the table, a WWII airplane half-assembled on a shelf. Luther rotated projects in their sparing free time, letting the paint dry on some while he went back to jotting pieces together in another. It was slow, patient, careful work — initially granted by the Monocle as an excuse for dexterity training, not that Luther knew it — and it kept him busy.
"I keep asking the others to join me in tackling a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle down in the rec room, too, and nobody ever says yes."
Because it's boring, Luther.
He keeps talking, though, while his fingers curl around Allison's hand and the slightly bitter chemical scent of the paint fills his nostrils and he works his way from fingernail to fingernail. Talking about banalities is keeping him sane, and preventing his thoughts from just dissolving into a mess right here and now over the fact that they are so close; that his knee is bumping against hers; that he can hear the sound of her breath.