“Hence the contacts,” he echoed, nodding his thanks as she handed him the mug. He just returned the smile when she commented on his line of work. If she’d figured things out on her own, that was just fine but he wasn’t about to admit to anything. He gave her a wider grin at the comment about liking his eyes without the contacts, then went about blowing softly on the tea to try to cool it. It was a good thing she hadn’t gone screaming from the house. He looked at her as she described her feelings on grandness in general, nodding in agreement. His own experiences had been nothing like that, but he could definitely see where she was coming from.
He followed her in and plopped down on the couch next to her, setting the picture carefully on the table after pointing out the hair difference. It was hard to really tell just how different it was, other than the obvious white in the front, but she clarified for him. Smiling, he leaned back and asked, “Which one’s the dye job?”
“That, oui,” he nodded. “But also just… when this was taken, I was probably working for the man. I just never got close to this.” He gestured at the group again, shrugging. “Ain’t saying it’s bad or I regret anything, but it’s interesting to think about what all else was goin’ on at the same time and how close it all was without ever actually coming together.”
“Sometimes it’s best if I don’t get to talk. Gives me less of a chance to jam my foot in my mouth.” He took a sip of the tea and smiled. “But I suppose if you really want me to start talking, I could oblige. What you want me to talk about?”