I don't know. Maybe. [ Colton scratches the back of his neck. There's a lilt to his voice that makes it sound like half a question, as if he's not sure (because she looks okay but it must hurt, right? There are people who are good at disguising— that kind of thing?)
A beat follows. It's not particularly awkward but it's stubbornly weighted all the same — there's music and it's loud and it'd be just as easy to turn back into the crowd but Colton doesn't. Instead he shifts his weight, uneasy and unsure, his eyes darting around the room as if he's looking for some way to make it up to her. In the end, he settles on a peace offering. Someone's left behind one of those plastic new year hats to the left of the finger sandwiches and he (after a tentative sniff) claims it as his own, placing it lightly on Iseult's head. ]
no subject
A beat follows. It's not particularly awkward but it's stubbornly weighted all the same — there's music and it's loud and it'd be just as easy to turn back into the crowd but Colton doesn't. Instead he shifts his weight, uneasy and unsure, his eyes darting around the room as if he's looking for some way to make it up to her. In the end, he settles on a peace offering. Someone's left behind one of those plastic new year hats to the left of the finger sandwiches and he (after a tentative sniff) claims it as his own, placing it lightly on Iseult's head. ]
Um— Happy New Year, Iseult.