Tandy Bowen doesn't have to pick between (cloakndagger) wrote in repose,
Re: Billy/Tandy: the neighborhood
"What is that?" Tandy wasn't a cook. He wasn't a witch either, which was to belabor the point which was, incidentally, what the thing in the jar that smelled faintly from a few yards away. He was interested, which was to say he was alive and paying attention, both of which were fairly low bars for Tandy's interest to be applicable. "No warranty. I'm pretty sure you can find spare parts on eBay but the import tax is a little excessive. Jail time, I think," he said absently, and he drew one knee up so that he sat half-Indian style, careful to keep his feet from anywhere near the sheets.
He was comfortable. Tandy took invitations at face value, largely. He took jokes the way they were intended, he took little offence when offence presented itself and he assumed invitations meant he was actually welcome. He rotated toward Billy as he sat down pasha-style at the head of the bed, and he thought he saw a visible question before it was swallowed by a look that hadn't crossed Billy's face prior.
Tandy waited. His face was scrupulously neutral. "For safety," he said, with the eyebrows raised that said this was a question, rather than a statement, and then, "So what made it different?"