Leaning in the doorway, arms folded, the blond smiles a little again, but this many half and quarter smiles manage to make up more than his usual share shown at all, outside of the usual suspects.

"I," he emphasizes, "Don't care much for snowshoeing," and his look here is wry because a joke is a joke is a joke---one he moves on from without pause, "But if the weather decides to catch back up to the proper season," and here is the pause. Said pause seamlessly transitions into a pointed nod and shrug, the equivalent to of course I will and we won't be getting lost anyway and the like. His gaze drops to the now rather attention-fed feline. "He favors your room regularly." This can also be read as you may have trouble reclaiming your bed, but Edmund will find that out sooner than later for himself.
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wandbreaker

January 2012

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