Re: Shiloh & Kit: the B&B sitting room
It might be observed that Kit had a strong sense of self. He certainly had a strong sense of self-possession which was not the same thing. He smiled, a sliding, sloping kind of smile with both eyebrows lifting ever so slightly at the suggestion that he was either in need of advice or given to dispensing it. He ran a hand through the brush of his hair, which had the effect of taming it a little, but not a lot as he looked out at the other diners as they began to draw in to the breakfast room. None of them wore pants of as pink a hue as Shiloh. But that couldn't be helped.
"No," he said, thoughtfully. It was very possibly a metaphorical question, the lazy delivery of a summing up, and Kit smiled again. It was a different kind of smile, one good natured, but reserved. "No, I don't think so. Although you might be more convinced if it was." The joke - because that was what it was, in humor so dry it was dust, ashes and bone - landed cleanly and Kit's mouth twitched into a smile deeper, and his chin came down as his eyes danced, as Shiloh laughed loud enough to draw himself an audience.
"Yes, well. A tadpole doctor is still a doctor, isn't he? One with a Hippocratic oath," Kit wasn't offended. Or he didn't look it. He met Shiloh's mirth with equanimity and "And there are few of us in this town, I should think." He veered off, in a long slouch toward the coffee machine without giving a look toward Shiloh to catch the highly dismissive wave, and returned a moment or two later with two mugs, both steaming. He put one down in front of Shiloh, and sat back into his own chair. He was awake enough now to cross his legs at the knee, and he leaned an arm against the back of his own chair.
"You could keep my tenuous link up to date," he suggested, as if he didn't expect Shiloh to agree at all. "How are you?"