There is a - surge, in Alfred, at her obvious distaste. His jaw grinds a little where it is set, shoulders drawing taut as if he had himself been admonished. Sliding backward into old habits. Cowed. He had only wanted to answer her question, and now he feels under attack for the answer.
"...Mother taught me. It's a useful skill, and it's - quiet. I find it soothing."
There is an uncharacteristic flatness to his tone of voice, and he still doesn't look back up at her. Inspecting moth holes in the fabric, turning it inside out to observe the seams. "But anything beyond mending I was - discouraged from. It wasn't manly, they said. I have the time to revisit it now."
A long, slow breath he doesn't need, and he tries to lighten his tone, lifting his blue eyes to rest on her.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-02-23 07:16 am (UTC)"...Mother taught me. It's a useful skill, and it's - quiet. I find it soothing."
There is an uncharacteristic flatness to his tone of voice, and he still doesn't look back up at her. Inspecting moth holes in the fabric, turning it inside out to observe the seams. "But anything beyond mending I was - discouraged from. It wasn't manly, they said. I have the time to revisit it now."
A long, slow breath he doesn't need, and he tries to lighten his tone, lifting his blue eyes to rest on her.
"So then, what are you doing with your time?"