[RIP to this dinner in particular, a victim to shitloads of questions and also story time. Palamedes sits back up and flashes him a quick grin in one movement, hunching forward to lean an elbow on his knee and listen carefully while Viktor, ah, explains. This is a thing that requires him to not be staring at the ceiling any longer, mmph-
He doesn't know what to do with the information besides file it away under useful-to-know. Daring to consider it a good sign is a sucker's game, he knows - and yet part of him does anyway, involuntarily, borne on runaway hope that Viktor will just wake up one day and not cough ever again. Palamedes would not even demand and explanation (not that he wouldn't be curious, but the point of the thing). An illness that doesn't worsen should at least imply more time, although it raises plenty of implications about the transition of their bodies from home, to squid, to now.
He glances across the room to the kitchen table, which sports a small stack of books and notebooks, as always. Should he write this down? No; he'll remember. Actually-]
Do you keep a log? Out of curiosity. [might be handy,] And remind me, about palebloods: is it the night or the moon, specifically? I'm sure we could find one of those lunar orbs to keep around. I know a metal box with no windows isn't the most comfortable place to live.
[Like, he can admit this. It's true. Time to get some moon lamps, perhaps...]
no subject
[RIP to this dinner in particular, a victim to shitloads of questions and also story time. Palamedes sits back up and flashes him a quick grin in one movement, hunching forward to lean an elbow on his knee and listen carefully while Viktor, ah, explains. This is a thing that requires him to not be staring at the ceiling any longer, mmph-
He doesn't know what to do with the information besides file it away under useful-to-know. Daring to consider it a good sign is a sucker's game, he knows - and yet part of him does anyway, involuntarily, borne on runaway hope that Viktor will just wake up one day and not cough ever again. Palamedes would not even demand and explanation (not that he wouldn't be curious, but the point of the thing). An illness that doesn't worsen should at least imply more time, although it raises plenty of implications about the transition of their bodies from home, to squid, to now.
He glances across the room to the kitchen table, which sports a small stack of books and notebooks, as always. Should he write this down? No; he'll remember. Actually-]
Do you keep a log? Out of curiosity. [might be handy,] And remind me, about palebloods: is it the night or the moon, specifically? I'm sure we could find one of those lunar orbs to keep around. I know a metal box with no windows isn't the most comfortable place to live.
[Like, he can admit this. It's true. Time to get some moon lamps, perhaps...]