Re: Kit & Tory: Area 52
Kit had the self-contained air of someone able to live perfectly well without other people. It hadn't always been the case. He'd been a lonely little boy once, desperately missing his mother and with the syrupy syllables of a Southerner in foster home after foster home until he'd been dropped somewhere cold - weather and general sentiment - for his later teenage years. "Do you?" he said, of immaturity, and it was very certainly a question. He hadn't that impression. Tory was perhaps a little naive, but that wasn't the same thing.
"It's rather a lot, yes," he agreed, and Kit breathed in the thick smell of coffee for a moment, pausing in contemplation. "I've worn tweed," he acknowledged. "But it's not exactly comfortable on a daily basis," he said, wry.