Jonathan Sims

Martin's just finishing up preparation of their tea when John returns with the cat, both of them looking charmingly cozy. He gives John a quick smile before taking both mugs and guiding them over to the couch.

"Here we are," he says, setting John's mug down on the coffee table so he can get it after negotiating with The Bishop. He settles in beside them, taking a pensive sip of his own, quiet for a moment. He's not quite sure where to go from here, conversationally; it might be easy enough to share some gentle silence, but there is still something flitting around the periphery of his awareness, like something that didn't quite get settled with all the rest. It's without much thought that he eventually voices it.

"You and Norah don't... actually talk about me, do you?" Almost before he's even finished the question, he already regrets it. Christ, this is the last thing he needs to be prodding. He tries to hastily course correct: "I-I mean — Sorry, that's a stupid question. I'm sure you have much more interesting things to talk about." He frowns into his tea and takes another little sip before he can't quite help muttering, "Though what, I'm sure I don't know."