Adelaide knew the kind of man that Robert was when she married him. True, he has surprised her at turns - with that mind, and under these circumstances, who could help it? - but she knew the qualities he possessed when they started out, back in that crumbling mess of a world that was post-outbreak Boston. Knew him to be precise, thorough, brilliant, logical. Loyal, even. He doesn't surprise or horrify her now with his plans for Demi, and even Isaac, whom Adelaide likes. She'd already known him to be ruthless where needed, as well. Ruthless without cruelty, which Adelaide generally approves of when it isn't used against herself.
All of it is why she had married him in the first place.
True, he doesn't give her butterflies. And maybe now that her tingling-sleeping-limb of a heart is being stirred awake, she wonders if that is something she wants or even needs to survive in this life, where reasons to keep slogging through are so important. But questions of the heart aside, Thomas Robert Lansing is undeniably everything that was advertised.
She watches his face closely as he speaks, as his tidy mind scans, organizes, and then delivers the pertinent details. She can see him, as soon as the question is posed, straighten up and come to attention and want to impress, need to deliver on the task she has set him. She knows that is good, knows that is where her power lies. She's understanding more and more fully this relationship she's been under-informed about for so long now.
He can see that her listening is the active sort, the kind that doesn't just let the words wash over but that takes them, and thinks three steps forward with each bit, speculating chain reactions just like she's sure he did. She's sure he did, because she can't find holes in his logic, flaws in his plans. The idea that he has eyes on the Mayor is particularly assuring, and her brows lift there while he continues.
Adelaide wonders, briefly, if it is better to appear less impressed than she is, to string along that need of his, but then she throws that aside. Tonight, she is going to be as honest as she can. So instead she slips ever so slightly closer, hands alighting on his sides as she goes up on tiptoe to kiss him, warm and unexpected. She doesn't have to talk herself into it, just now. There's a leading edge of genuine fondness for this man at the moment. "So that's what you do all day," she says, looking up into his eyes. "How many people know the code to this panic room?" she adds, making it clear he has certainly not overshared, and that the things he wants to tell her are welcome.