[ That lock of hair brushes against Zephirin's fingertips with Francel's movement, soft as a downy feather — and then Francel has turned away to take a seat. His hair stays in disarray, temporarily out of reach.
Hand lowered, Zephirin curls it around the back of his chair, and sits down a moment later, leaning one forearm against the edge of the table. He studies Francel, as if appraising him. ]
Then, if I ask you if you consider us friends now, what will you say?
[ Speaking in person for the third time, they probably have a ways to go first, but Francel was plainly excited to see his new acquaintance again yesterday. ]
no subject
Hand lowered, Zephirin curls it around the back of his chair, and sits down a moment later, leaning one forearm against the edge of the table. He studies Francel, as if appraising him. ]
Then, if I ask you if you consider us friends now, what will you say?
[ Speaking in person for the third time, they probably have a ways to go first, but Francel was plainly excited to see his new acquaintance again yesterday. ]