Sabine returned to her book just as soon as the guy turned away. Skimming for the right sentences she'd left off on before Coffee Fiasco 1—the moralizing of otherness and equation of godhood as a boost. Gods had been given power for so much less than just falling out of a rip in the sky. She didn't expect anything like sense and logic from the thing; that wasn't the point of them. She was just returning to a rhythm when the guy started talking again.
Looking up, she found he had that slightly owlish look of someone who didn't quite know what words to put out of their mouth. That thing that was all semi-gobsmacked, doubting and hoping for someone to throw them a line back out of whatever deep end they accidentally walked into. Which could be what she thought, or it could be any of a million other things that might have come flush and fiddle with Jack's squirrely subconscious.
"Depends." Sabine's mouth twists as she drags out the word into a long beat, but her green eyes have a bright kind of amused sharpness, and her assumption is already checked in with the box. But why not let it drag out a little? There were two other guys who worked here officially. "What did he look like?"
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Looking up, she found he had that slightly owlish look of someone who didn't quite know what words to put out of their mouth. That thing that was all semi-gobsmacked, doubting and hoping for someone to throw them a line back out of whatever deep end they accidentally walked into. Which could be what she thought, or it could be any of a million other things that might have come flush and fiddle with Jack's squirrely subconscious.
"Depends." Sabine's mouth twists as she drags out the word into a long beat, but her green eyes have a bright kind of amused sharpness, and her assumption is already checked in with the box. But why not let it drag out a little? There were two other guys who worked here officially. "What did he look like?"