The requirements of how she had to communicate with Ben, of using lip-reading to understand him rather than the easier flow of ASL that could be done with slightly less effort and focus, required that she angle her body in towards his as she sat beside him. Not that it was a hardship, by any means, to keep her attention on Ben, and after so many years of being Deaf, it was a habit she now performed without thought. The necessity of lip reading also meant that she was eternally grateful that he was not one of those people who attempted to both speak and chew, as aside from the obvious gross display of such behavior as she was unable to look away for fear of missing something vital they had to say, it tended to mangle their words something awful.
As if lip-reading weren't already more art than science.
"I don't know what I'd want for my birthday," she admitted, carefully wrapping all her ingredients into a neat packet of boston lettuce as she spoke. "But it's not for a few months yet. We still have your birthday here." He was sweet. Sweet and cheerful, bright and bouncy and self-assuredly attractive. It was difficult to see how she wouldn't find the appeal in him, she had to think, as she carefully ate her first wrap with as much delicacy as happy gusto, loving the combo of the sweet-tartness of the sauce mixed with the crunch of toasted coconut and peanuts, the meatiness of the shrimp, and the pure flavor of the ginger and onion and lime.