[ Ferdinand loves dancing, but not when it comes to conversation. That he has gone this long tiptoeing around Hubert’s questions is really something, but it seems that by being forthright himself, he has managed to pry an elusive straightforward answer out of Hubert as well.
And what an answer it is. He would have thought Hubert’s focus infallible, set upon its path like a cannonball, but of all the things, it is Ferdinand who has knocked it askew. It doesn’t sound like an accusation, there is no anger there so much as it is… an admission of sorts. An admission that Ferdinand is not alone in being unable to forget their dance.
A hand comes reaching back over his shoulder, fingers seeking out and closing around Hubert’s wrist to still his hands. Ferdinand turns in his chair to face his friend, eyes wide and sweeping over Hubert’s face. ]
no subject
And what an answer it is. He would have thought Hubert’s focus infallible, set upon its path like a cannonball, but of all the things, it is Ferdinand who has knocked it askew. It doesn’t sound like an accusation, there is no anger there so much as it is… an admission of sorts. An admission that Ferdinand is not alone in being unable to forget their dance.
A hand comes reaching back over his shoulder, fingers seeking out and closing around Hubert’s wrist to still his hands. Ferdinand turns in his chair to face his friend, eyes wide and sweeping over Hubert’s face. ]
Is it?