Autor doesn't like that expression. The anger, he can handle; that's almost expected. The disappointment chafes a bit, but the pity...
Well, the pity is enraging. But at least Rabastan seems to be back to his normal nagging self. Small comforts.
"I am not blaming Elea for our situation," he says patiently. Or as patiently as he can be, anyway. "But I am calling her out for trying to force the issue when she doesn't even know me, or my relation to you. If I had said, 'any friendship between us will take considerable work and can't happen immediately, please back off,' you would have poked holes in that, too."
Then he slaps some silver on the table. More than enough to cover his share, with tip. "I will not allow her to cover my dinner, either," he says, wrinkling his nose, as if the very idea is abhorrent.
"And yes, I am very annoyed with you for thinking... whatever you did about me and her. If she's as wonderful as you tell me she is--and I believe you, especially now that I've met her--then you need to have a little faith in her. I smiled to provoke you, but not like that," he says, and draws a breath before continuing. "But thank you, for acknowledging all of that, and I'm sorry for the way it set you off."
He sighs and pokes at his food. "If you really wanted to be friends, why didn't you seek me out on your own initiative? You were nearly laconic when she was around; is my impression that you yourself were uncomfortable speaking an incorrect one?" he asks, and sets his jaw.
Now it's his turn to look disappointed, though he doesn't know it. "I don't know anything about friendship. Hardly anything at all. But 'I don't have many' and 'because I have to talk to you' don't sound like the foundations for a lasting relationship."
The boy clenches his fists and glares at the man. "You are such a simpleton, Rabastan Lestrange. If you weren't my friend, I wouldn't have pranked you."
All that said, he takes an angry first bite of his food. He has been curious about these truffles all evening.
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Well, the pity is enraging. But at least Rabastan seems to be back to his normal nagging self. Small comforts.
"I am not blaming Elea for our situation," he says patiently. Or as patiently as he can be, anyway. "But I am calling her out for trying to force the issue when she doesn't even know me, or my relation to you. If I had said, 'any friendship between us will take considerable work and can't happen immediately, please back off,' you would have poked holes in that, too."
Then he slaps some silver on the table. More than enough to cover his share, with tip. "I will not allow her to cover my dinner, either," he says, wrinkling his nose, as if the very idea is abhorrent.
"And yes, I am very annoyed with you for thinking... whatever you did about me and her. If she's as wonderful as you tell me she is--and I believe you, especially now that I've met her--then you need to have a little faith in her. I smiled to provoke you, but not like that," he says, and draws a breath before continuing. "But thank you, for acknowledging all of that, and I'm sorry for the way it set you off."
He sighs and pokes at his food. "If you really wanted to be friends, why didn't you seek me out on your own initiative? You were nearly laconic when she was around; is my impression that you yourself were uncomfortable speaking an incorrect one?" he asks, and sets his jaw.
Now it's his turn to look disappointed, though he doesn't know it. "I don't know anything about friendship. Hardly anything at all. But 'I don't have many' and 'because I have to talk to you' don't sound like the foundations for a lasting relationship."
The boy clenches his fists and glares at the man. "You are such a simpleton, Rabastan Lestrange. If you weren't my friend, I wouldn't have pranked you."
All that said, he takes an angry first bite of his food. He has been curious about these truffles all evening.