Snippet #1210013

Jasper studied the dark woman before him. He was well-used to people walking on eggshells around him; he'd cultivated the attitude he had to cause particularly that sort of reaction, and nothing else. Yet, he had the feeling that it was less this and more the same wariness he felt around Norman: a recognition that there could be danger, but the understanding also that there did not have to be.

She overqualified. Making sure to tell him that there was no need for pity and she felt none. True, he might have jumped to that conclusion on her words alone, but there was nothing in her body language that indicated pity or self-pity, really. Of course there was grief, but he recognized that this was a perfectly normal reaction.

So Amunet understood what it was to have nobody but a sibling. There was common ground, there, but Jasper was not sure what he wished to do with the knowledge. There was a potentiality for sympathy, if he would allow himself to feel such a thing. If she would even accept the gesture as anything but useless sentiment. No, for now, he would leave that be. "Take care of him," he requested simply instead. "My brother seems fond of you; I don't want to take him anywhere with me before he remembers who I am, anyway." It hurt him a bit to admit it, that Derris was somewhat attached to Amunet already. He honestly couldn't decide which was worse: that his brother had grown so swiftly close to another, or that Jasper himself was virtually incapable of doing the same. Perhaps he was envious of the both of them.

Ridiculous.