Re: log: adrian and ren
Adrian often didn't have a good feeling for how others might react to what he said. He'd never been afraid to talk to other people - blithe ignorance of what they were thinking did help. He knew, though, that he didn't always say the right thing, and that in the guise of honest conversation, he could misstep without realizing it. This might be one of those times, but he wasn't sure. The pause between the comment and Ren's reaction to it did smack of saying the wrong thing, but he couldn't really know.
"You must have been good," he said, fully expecting a clear-eyed self-assessment from Ren of the truth of the statement. "You're good at playing the barista." Another small smile. It was true. If he didn't feel his easy patter on books and the town, then it didn't show on the surface.
Adrian clocked off the various subcategories of reading in his head, trying to add them into a whole. "I've read Shakespeare," he said, with agreeable ignorance. Ibsen was foreign to him, and Miller, and several of the other entire genres he had mentioned. "I've never really read mysteries. I see the appeal, though. Knowing to expect a neat conclusion. Knowing your curiosity, in the end, will be satisfied."
His gaze flicked up, and he paused. "Yes," he said. "Just the one."