Re: Log, Webster's Vinyl: Daniel W & Newt P
Despite what he understood to be a rarity among modern humans (bespoke clothing, that is, tailored to fit the wearer and only them), Daniel had the impression that Newt was a sad, impoverished tramp, a sort of traveling tinker with diversions into biology. Only such a person would have volunteered to clean, a task Daniel associated with the lowest echelons of society in his antique fashion. None of these estimations significantly lowered Daniel's estimation of Newt's intelligence, however, or his capability as a person, and that was a lot to be said of someone born in Daniel's century.
Daniel finished starting the kettle, surreptitiously pushing a number of empty wine bottles farther back behind the jars of sugar and flour sitting on the modest counter. He left the mugs on the table, massive things that completely overshadowed the silver teaspoons and tea strainers in the oldest style possible. He came back around the edge of the table, hesitated as if he had not manhandled Newt a number of times in his toothy way, and then slowly turned his hand palm up to touch Newt just under his soft chin. It wasn't an examining gesture, but a tentatively affectionate one.
"You are distressed about it," he observed. He didn't know how distressed, but he was prying. Blatantly.