[Instead of answering, Crane leans his elbow on the bar, cheek against his fist. While he smothers his face with a neutral expression, he cannot hide the lively spark flashing behind his eyes. He observes Rachel's movements, imagines how nervous she is feeling beneath her bravado, and inhales deeply. He grabs his water from the bar - straight with a slice of lemon - and lets go immediately once it's beneath his nose.]
Ms. Dawes.
[The man he has become hides both in the open and beyond plain sight. He answers to his name whilst hiding behind a different face. The stitches tying his life together are now looser, more threadbare. More unhinged, one might think - his mind is obviously recalling something - but the mask he presents to the world is stitched more finely than his burlap sack.]
no subject
Ms. Dawes.
[The man he has become hides both in the open and beyond plain sight. He answers to his name whilst hiding behind a different face. The stitches tying his life together are now looser, more threadbare. More unhinged, one might think - his mind is obviously recalling something - but the mask he presents to the world is stitched more finely than his burlap sack.]