Grand Library
Chrysanthe let Baz take the notebook. It meant there was really no avoiding looking at his hand, but she kept her gaze firmly on it, and didn’t let her gaze stray up to his face.
There was a pause, a moment; throughout it, Chrysanthe kept expecting Baz to continue, to say – she wasn’t sure what. There was a strange tingling all over her skin, rather awful, and she kept her gaze fixed quite solidly on the table, in the absence of a notebook to look at.
Baz slid his notes over. Chrysanthe settled her hand on the edge of the page, and began to read, intently. Her gaze flicked over to the doodles, the gears, and lingered for a moment on the bird. She didn’t draw – she was rather awful at it, frankly – but she rather liked the bird.
Chrysanthe nodded slightly. Her scone sat next to her hand, half-eaten, a few crumbs scattered at the edge of it onto the napkin.
“This makes sense, I think,” Chrysanthe said, rather slowly. She dared a glance up at Baz, and then looked back down at the notebook.
The compliment to Amaryllis produced a stronger reaction; Chrysanthe looked up at him once more, her face brightening, and smiled very genuinely this time. “She is,” she said, staunchly. "I'll let her know you said so." She promised. She drew her notebook back, turning to the question; she took out one of her pens, and began to write further down on the page, glancing from Baz’s notes back to her own.
Chrysanthe shifted a little on the seat, and stilled herself. “What does this mean?” She asked, tentatively, pointing to one of the lines he’d written. “That is – I think – but in this context, I wondered what was meant by…” she went on into the question, gaining a little strength in her voice as she did. She was sitting more upright now, no longer gazing down quite so much.
Baz’s explanation made a good deal of sense; Chrysanthe nodded, firmly. “Just like in the second unit,” she said, thoughtful. “I see.” She took a deep breath, and went back to her notes.
Over the quiet scratch of her pen, Chrysanthe glanced up once more. “Do you like birds?” She asked, tentatively. Her gaze held on Baz’s face for a moment, curious, and then she went back to writing, carefully and neatly forming each word.