Re: carriage house: matt/atticus
[Matt glanced around the room, taking in the books as well as their contents, books on books. The room smelled like paper, ink, cigarette smoke, the half-opened beer, and the less-definable scent of a lived-in house and a breathing human being in it. Something under that too, something he'd noticed only in his brief visit to Cisco's trailer, animalic, unique.
In the middle of the whirlwind of harsh smoke, alcohol, and paper was Atticus, with his glasses tucked onto his nose, looking bookish and healthy. It was a nice thing to look at, the scene. Matt shut the door behind him. He was so busy looking that he didn't immediately register what Atticus had said.]
Claire can handle it. [A statement, but also a question. He didn't know Claire, or what she was capable of.] And you need to be there. [If Atticus said yes, he'd believe it.
He pulled off his jacket and tossed it in Atticus general direction, fully expecting him to catch it or become a coat rack. Then he picked his way across the floor blanketed with books, taking care not to step on them with his muddy boots. He could be pretty nimble when he needed to, though he listed a little when he had to hop on the left side. He was wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt under the jacket, worn soft from washing. He tossed his glove on top of a nearby shelf.
When he reached the couch, he picked up the books on the opposite side and set them in a stack on the endtable. He took care to leave the pages open to where Atticus left them, and then he seated himself at the eye of the book hurricane.] What's the plan? [The books must be informing a plan. The thought of Janus and the field of books were sobering, and anything else he might be thinking about was set aside for the moment. He slung his left arm over the back of the couch.]