Re: Shiloh & Kit: the B&B sitting room
Shiloh did not comment on the style which he possessed, or how successfully he would wear the pajamas in question; this had already been expressed, surely, and Shiloh was the sort of person who had an innate confidence that could not be shaken. Like his tendency toward trouble, his vanity was a finely honed thing, and he believed in his own wonderfulness. Anyone who didn't agree, surely, was mistaken, and he forgave them beneficently. "It does not matter what counts as advice," he responded, and so it did not. "I have no advice to give you, nor do I want to be anyone's Dear Abby. I leave these things to the likes of you."
The door remained closed. The conversational door, that is. The topic. Onward, and so Shiloh tapped his toes against the floor as Kit consumed coffee and then embarked on an impassioned speech about justice. Shiloh remained quiet throughout, with nary a brow quirked to indicate his opinion. "Ah, so this is all about your father, is it?" he asked ultimately, with the same sort of lazy casualness that he employed for topics barely attended to. He had no true opinion of Kit's father, and he had quite a few opinions about the justice system, but his thoughts were not material to this conversation.
Not to his version of the conversation, anyway.
But he chuckled next, truly entertained and loud enough to draw attention from the surrounding diners. "You're bringing the Hippocratic Oath into this? Truly? You're barely a doctor. You're the tadpole of doctors, darling," he said, and he laughed another trailing laugh. "But, alright, you may have your beliefs, especially as they suit me," he said, neither agreeing or disagreeing with anything at all.
"But I will take a coffee, so long as it's a good one," he added, waving Kit off with one hand, go, go, be a dear and fetch that for me.