When he noticed the headphones he sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. He didnāt want to call out to her again ā didnāt want to cause a bigger scene than he probably already was with the trail of his phone flashlight. It was a small room, and with the sun setting it was already attracting eyes on his moving form. He didnāt want to bother her ā she was clearly busy, distracting herself from the storm outside or the people inside, or both, for all he knew.Ā
He stood for a moment, quickly turning off the flashlight of his phone as he watched her sketch. But instead of the neutral expression she usually held, this time, it seemed she was frustrated. Determined to get something down on paper only to have that furrowed brow that showed that nothing was coming up right. The pile of paper balls next to her only further proved it, but for a moment as he looked at her, things felt a little bit okay.Ā
He pressed himself against the wall next to her, allowing his back to drag across the harsh cement walls until he was sitting on the floor. He was close, but not close enough to touch her. Not to upset her; not to accidentally send himself into a panic. It seemed like she hadnāt noticed he was there ā hadnāt noticed his gentle leaning over her shoulder to see what she was drawing.Ā
With shaky hands he leaned back, picking up the first of the paper balls. Because while she clearly didnāt like her own work,Ā he liked everything she did, and he wanted to save it. That, and it proved enough of a distraction to keep his thoughts at bay. So he unfolded the sketch paper carefully, smoothening it out on the knee of his jeans before setting it gently in his lap and starting on the next. If she wasnāt able to talk to him, the least he could do is preserve her work for her.Ā
From her peripheral vision, Jo saw a pair of hands reach for the balled-up pieces of paper she had carelessly tossed to her side, and she immediately turned to face whoever it was, pulling her headphones from her ear as she prepared herself to unleash the fiery temper she had tried so hard to keep a lid on since she started living there. However, before she could even get a word out, all irritability, all scornful words -- everything she had prepared to say and do -- vanished into thin air as she laid her eyes on Silas.Ā
When had he gotten there?
He had been smoothing down her sketches, and with furrowed brows, she wrapped one hand around his wrist, pulling it from his task.Ā āItās not worth it. Theyāre all shit. All of it.ā She tried to smile, tried to summon that sarcastic tinge to soften her words, but it came out flat anyway, and the smile never quite reached her eyes.Ā
Her lips smoothed into a straight line, her gaze landing on his hand -- it almost seemed as if it was trembling under her touch. She pulled her hand away, but almost immediately yearned to place it back because for some reason, it had placated her in a way that sitting here and sketching hadnāt done. What the hell? She immediately hardened her expression and closed her sketchbook as she asked, āWhat, youāve got nothinā better to do down here other than come and bug me?ā