[ Kind of like you puts a scrunch on her face, but the accusation of cheating doesn't do any real damage. She knows she's cheating at this game, but it's different than when she plays with Khaji, or other types of games. These kinds of sports aren't for her, normally, and there's no real sense of strategy or personal touch to it. What does it matter who wins?
But the smugness and the play-acting pride fade off when his curiosity turns less accusative and more genuine. Her brows scrunch. ] You don't know?
[ She says it like that, but the question isn't really directed at Jaime — she's talking to herself, a quiet moment of surprise. Have they really gone this long without her explaining it? But she knows she's used it around him. Right? Or was it only in little ways like this? Turning locks from the other side of the door, lessening the weight of something being carried, moving things beneath the surface... the confusion in her face clears up. ] Or... no. You haven't seen it.
[ The ball kicks back out of the return; Ruka turns her head at the sound, then looks at Jaime, and then—much more critically—looks around at the other lanes, the other people bowling, or lingering around. The only person she absolutely does not want to see this isn't anywhere she can see, so... it's fine, right? With her lips still pursed, she goes to retrieve the ball, which does jump the last couple of inches to her palms.
She walks back to Jaime, offering the ball. ] Here.
[ Once he takes it, though, even once it leaves her hands, it puts no weight in his hands. Not like a balloon, or something only a shell around air, but like grabbing hold of a statue, or the bottom rung of a suspended ladder: the weight isn't gone, but it's borne by something else. Her head tilts, silent invitation, and she moves over to the bench near the score-control console. ]
no subject
But the smugness and the play-acting pride fade off when his curiosity turns less accusative and more genuine. Her brows scrunch. ] You don't know?
[ She says it like that, but the question isn't really directed at Jaime — she's talking to herself, a quiet moment of surprise. Have they really gone this long without her explaining it? But she knows she's used it around him. Right? Or was it only in little ways like this? Turning locks from the other side of the door, lessening the weight of something being carried, moving things beneath the surface... the confusion in her face clears up. ] Or... no. You haven't seen it.
[ The ball kicks back out of the return; Ruka turns her head at the sound, then looks at Jaime, and then—much more critically—looks around at the other lanes, the other people bowling, or lingering around. The only person she absolutely does not want to see this isn't anywhere she can see, so... it's fine, right? With her lips still pursed, she goes to retrieve the ball, which does jump the last couple of inches to her palms.
She walks back to Jaime, offering the ball. ] Here.
[ Once he takes it, though, even once it leaves her hands, it puts no weight in his hands. Not like a balloon, or something only a shell around air, but like grabbing hold of a statue, or the bottom rung of a suspended ladder: the weight isn't gone, but it's borne by something else. Her head tilts, silent invitation, and she moves over to the bench near the score-control console. ]