Re: Kit & Tory: Area 52
Straight-faced delivery Kit could manage. He'd gone from the sort of childhood where raucous, often filthy humor was the only kind on offer to the petrified-wood state of humor that was his grandparents and not many people particularly wanted to laugh with Kit at school. Kit did laugh, often enough. He wasn't nearly as dry as his delivery gave him the appearance of. "Perhaps he ought to motivate himself with the prospect of what the funding could deliver," Kit offered up in exchange. "Oh, don't say that. He's got a brand new company to run. Don't encourage him to pack it in now." His eyes were smiling.
Kit wasn't very direct except when circumstances called for it. 'Very'. He was also someone for whom qualifier words had practically been invented. He was occupying his space entirely comfortably, the narrow line of his back lodged against the wall and his fingers braced against the coffee cup. He pulled a face when Tory described him in very few words. It was half-way between a grimace and wry distaste. "Something far less boring than that picture," he said, again, wryly. "What does anyone do for fun? I don't play chess, or something. That would round out the picture, wouldn't it?"