[He's glad about the details, the little inconsequential ones. They're the sort of thing he tends to forget to offer up himself, when he tells stories — he'll be too blunt, or get fixated on the wrong thing, or condense everything down to its bare bones and forget the details that make it seem less like an ultimatum and more like an experience.
Polnareff doesn't forget the details. He puts in the things that make it believable, the way he laughs about their terrible deathtrap car and the notion of him studying textbooks while they traveled, of normal things like midterms in a tempestuous ocean of a supernatural life.
Despite himself, his grip tightens. This time it's possessive, moreso than secure.]
Did I finish? College. Did we get him? What do you do, now, in Italy? Do you —
no subject
Polnareff doesn't forget the details. He puts in the things that make it believable, the way he laughs about their terrible deathtrap car and the notion of him studying textbooks while they traveled, of normal things like midterms in a tempestuous ocean of a supernatural life.
Despite himself, his grip tightens. This time it's possessive, moreso than secure.]
Did I finish? College. Did we get him? What do you do, now, in Italy? Do you —
[He pauses, unable to help himself.]
...Do you have kids? Or...something?