The memory of hauling Hannibal, twelve years old and frozen mid-swing, off an older teen punches Neph right between the eyes. It's the sudden robotic shutdown, the way his whole body locks up halfway between one motion and the next, as though his clockwork springs ran down. He comes to a stop with hands and creamer a good six inches off the counter, and Neph can't help but stare.
(Mostly. After a quick beat, her eyes flick to Will, who is also definitely taking all this in. They don't make eye contact, but somehow Neph knows he noticed her looking, that he's acknowledging her, and that they're both a little worried. She wasn't aware it was possible to do all that without exchanging looks, but it's been a day for discoveries.)
Neph bites her lip. Should she not have taken him up on his offer? It wouldn't've cost her anything to ride the bus home with them and slip out for a run after dark. Nothing but this immediate heavy satisfaction sinking into her bones. She would have jittered her way through the rest of the day, she knows that. Does Hannibal? Can he possibly know what he made possible? If he hadn't said anything, she would've stayed. Would have let her guilt for involving them and leaving them in the dark tie her there, without ever thinking about it. The eddies of group dynamics have steered her life for so long, she's prone to letting them set her compass points.
She should explain all that to him. Later, after Will's gone, maybe. It's...not for Will, yet.
"It makes cappuccino, too," Neph says, falling into the rhythm of the tease with thoughtless ease. "If you want a mug that's half foam and seventy percent milk."
Will looks at her, and it's so openly gauging that she shuffles in place, tucking one ankle behind the other. Her pj pants swamp her legs, but she still feels like he's x-raying her scraped knees. Neph resists the urge to tuck her hands, palms clean but pink with abrasions, behind her back. She reaches out for one of the mugs instead, like he won't immediately notice. Hannibal whirs back to life, very probably saving her from a raised eyebrow at least.
"Yes!" she chimes, the uncomplicated glow of a good endorphin rush beaming from her face, from her whole body. Neph doesn't mean to unleash it all on Hannibal with her smile, but she...does, she absolutely does. It's a thank you and a I'm better now and a situation optimal all in one. "Much better'n bus funk!" His eyebrows tilt that fraction of an inch that she's learned means relief, or possibly acceptance, wistfulness without sadness. Neph presses her stinging palms against the cool ceramic and wonders what she ought to make of that.
She'll just have to ask him.
After coffee. Will makes a dubious noise over the pot, though whether at the brew or the two of them, Neph's not sure. It's enough to draw a glint of smug humor from Hannibal, who probably ground the beans by handcrank first and is breathlessly waiting (on the inside) for Will's reaction to the difference. Not that she'll admit there is a difference, but it's possible she might've, maybe, made a weird noise of her own the first time she tried fresh-ground beans. It's possible he won't ever let her live that down. Neph sniffs, but can't hide her own wriggling smile, so she turns hastily away with her cup held out for a pour.
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(Mostly. After a quick beat, her eyes flick to Will, who is also definitely taking all this in. They don't make eye contact, but somehow Neph knows he noticed her looking, that he's acknowledging her, and that they're both a little worried. She wasn't aware it was possible to do all that without exchanging looks, but it's been a day for discoveries.)
Neph bites her lip. Should she not have taken him up on his offer? It wouldn't've cost her anything to ride the bus home with them and slip out for a run after dark. Nothing but this immediate heavy satisfaction sinking into her bones. She would have jittered her way through the rest of the day, she knows that. Does Hannibal? Can he possibly know what he made possible? If he hadn't said anything, she would've stayed. Would have let her guilt for involving them and leaving them in the dark tie her there, without ever thinking about it. The eddies of group dynamics have steered her life for so long, she's prone to letting them set her compass points.
She should explain all that to him. Later, after Will's gone, maybe. It's...not for Will, yet.
"It makes cappuccino, too," Neph says, falling into the rhythm of the tease with thoughtless ease. "If you want a mug that's half foam and seventy percent milk."
Will looks at her, and it's so openly gauging that she shuffles in place, tucking one ankle behind the other. Her pj pants swamp her legs, but she still feels like he's x-raying her scraped knees. Neph resists the urge to tuck her hands, palms clean but pink with abrasions, behind her back. She reaches out for one of the mugs instead, like he won't immediately notice. Hannibal whirs back to life, very probably saving her from a raised eyebrow at least.
"Yes!" she chimes, the uncomplicated glow of a good endorphin rush beaming from her face, from her whole body. Neph doesn't mean to unleash it all on Hannibal with her smile, but she...does, she absolutely does. It's a thank you and a I'm better now and a situation optimal all in one. "Much better'n bus funk!" His eyebrows tilt that fraction of an inch that she's learned means relief, or possibly acceptance, wistfulness without sadness. Neph presses her stinging palms against the cool ceramic and wonders what she ought to make of that.
She'll just have to ask him.
After coffee. Will makes a dubious noise over the pot, though whether at the brew or the two of them, Neph's not sure. It's enough to draw a glint of smug humor from Hannibal, who probably ground the beans by handcrank first and is breathlessly waiting (on the inside) for Will's reaction to the difference. Not that she'll admit there is a difference, but it's possible she might've, maybe, made a weird noise of her own the first time she tried fresh-ground beans. It's possible he won't ever let her live that down. Neph sniffs, but can't hide her own wriggling smile, so she turns hastily away with her cup held out for a pour.