Colin sits back down, tears stinging his eyes. He leans forward to wipe his eyes with his hands. The only person he's ever been able to be truthful with is Detlef, and now this young man is being truthful with him. He shakes his head.
"No one," he agrees. "I could never talk about what happened to my family, except with my sister. I had to pretend I believed Marina brought it all on us. I still have to pretend that. But I could talk about it with Camilla, for the most part. And you can talk about it with me. And you'll know I would never, in a thousand years, get you in trouble for not feeling how they say you ought."
He catches the way Colin wipes at his face. It makes it harder to contain his own.
"Nor I you," he answers, quietly but firmly. "I ddon't know how much I can- about her, but I can listen and... I appreciate, a ggreat deal that..."
Faro dabs at his eyes, too, then exhales quickly, like he's trying to blow out all the anxiety and tears and feelings. With forced cheeriness, he suggests, "Perhaps we should plan a picnic."
Colin flashes a forced smile of his own. "A picnic. Possibly with Detlef. That would be so lovely. I could bake something special for it, and we could go outside the city walls. Though speaking of Detlef..."
This smile isn't forced, but it is definitely cheeky.
A picnic with his two buddies, sounds good. Farogil's smile is sincere now, his embroidering much more relaxed and mindful.
"Good. Why do you-" Glancing away from his work to Colin's face lets him notice the cheekiness of his smile. Faro gives a bashful chuckle, "Oh, I, take it he told you we're..."
A shrug. They're not specifically anything just yet.
"You're interested," Colin finishes playfully. "Yes. And I think you both deserve to be happy. And you're both my friends, so I just...wanted to ask. What are you thinking?"
It's a gentle question, with no hint of accusation to it.
Faro's a little wide-eyed and red-cheeked at that. He's never been even close to having this sort of conversation before, and if Colin hadn't said it so gently, he'd probably be picking up annoyance from him instead of just discomfort.
"I think... that I don't know what I'm ready for, or when I'll be ready. But I'm figuring that out. I've told him as much."
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Colin sits back down, tears stinging his eyes. He leans forward to wipe his eyes with his hands. The only person he's ever been able to be truthful with is Detlef, and now this young man is being truthful with him. He shakes his head.
"No one," he agrees. "I could never talk about what happened to my family, except with my sister. I had to pretend I believed Marina brought it all on us. I still have to pretend that. But I could talk about it with Camilla, for the most part. And you can talk about it with me. And you'll know I would never, in a thousand years, get you in trouble for not feeling how they say you ought."
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"Nor I you," he answers, quietly but firmly. "I ddon't know how much I can- about her, but I can listen and... I appreciate, a ggreat deal that..."
Faro dabs at his eyes, too, then exhales quickly, like he's trying to blow out all the anxiety and tears and feelings. With forced cheeriness, he suggests, "Perhaps we should plan a picnic."
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This smile isn't forced, but it is definitely cheeky.
"How are things between you two?"
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"Good. Why do you-" Glancing away from his work to Colin's face lets him notice the cheekiness of his smile. Faro gives a bashful chuckle, "Oh, I, take it he told you we're..."
A shrug. They're not specifically anything just yet.
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It's a gentle question, with no hint of accusation to it.
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"I think... that I don't know what I'm ready for, or when I'll be ready. But I'm figuring that out. I've told him as much."
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