On instinct, Combeferre reached out to cover Sybil’s hand with his own. “It does not seem fair, does it, that someone might share with us our fate. Even a Sybil might be unsettled by learning her own fortune.” He smiled softly, the pun meant fondly, and not to tease. Even the steadiest of hearts - and the woman sitting across from him surely qualified - would be left uncomfortably aflutter by news of the future. Whoever this friend was, it had surely been an unfair trick to share what information he had, especially out of spite.
When the wine came, Combeferre thanked the waiter, who filled their glasses and left the bottle. He tasted it, and was all but brought home. How, he still could not understand, but somehow the wine was French enough to bring to mind narrow Parisian streets, and darkened cafe back rooms, and friends he was not sure he would ever see again. He chuckled ruefully. “Is it? I fear you would think differently, were you to see the way I battle with my stove every morning."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-11-14 02:05 pm (UTC)When the wine came, Combeferre thanked the waiter, who filled their glasses and left the bottle. He tasted it, and was all but brought home. How, he still could not understand, but somehow the wine was French enough to bring to mind narrow Parisian streets, and darkened cafe back rooms, and friends he was not sure he would ever see again. He chuckled ruefully. “Is it? I fear you would think differently, were you to see the way I battle with my stove every morning."