The comment about appetite gets a bitter smile, a loud exhale of air through flared nostrils that takes the place of an actual laugh—he understands the lack of appetite from personal experience. He remembers showing up here, being new, remembers what it's like to know he should eat, but being in such a weird, new place (among other things) made it impossible to think about food much. He could have been offered the most delicious thing in the world for the first several days he was here and it wouldn't have done anything for him. That's not such a difficult thing to empathize with, really.
But then she meanders into still just as familiar territory and his eyebrow just about mimics hers, hands now shoved as deep in his pockets as they can go and a little stiff, his movements uncomfortable as he shifts to stand more next to her than in front of her. He's not unsettled by the idea of someone who has experience with the government talking so openly about it, though it might reek of that before he says anything.
"What sort of experience?" Conspiracy theorist taking advantage of someone who he might be able to get facts out of? Nah. "Was with the FBI just before I got dragged here. Teaching, field work. Tracking serial killers. There's plenty of people here who work in legal fields, you'll find."
Give and take, this for that. What branch, here was his, and the offer of more unsolicited information—you're not the only one, this history isn't going to shock us all, something that might pass for comfort. His voice, lower, a bit gravelly, even, might give away that he, too, has the experience of the view with the FBI being shit.
no subject
But then she meanders into still just as familiar territory and his eyebrow just about mimics hers, hands now shoved as deep in his pockets as they can go and a little stiff, his movements uncomfortable as he shifts to stand more next to her than in front of her. He's not unsettled by the idea of someone who has experience with the government talking so openly about it, though it might reek of that before he says anything.
"What sort of experience?" Conspiracy theorist taking advantage of someone who he might be able to get facts out of? Nah. "Was with the FBI just before I got dragged here. Teaching, field work. Tracking serial killers. There's plenty of people here who work in legal fields, you'll find."
Give and take, this for that. What branch, here was his, and the offer of more unsolicited information—you're not the only one, this history isn't going to shock us all, something that might pass for comfort. His voice, lower, a bit gravelly, even, might give away that he, too, has the experience of the view with the FBI being shit.
It's all a bunch of shit.