( She looks up from her own tablet, briefly startled. Most of what she says and does she doesn't even think about so much -- it's not a conscious behavior. She's used to acting a certain way, and so she simply does.
Collette falls into a temporary silence. In the end, she reaches out to swirl her infuser around her mug, pulling it up to let the water drain back out into her tea. )
I'm used to it, I guess.
( She's not sure what else to say to that. It's just easier if people don't expect much out of her. It's that knee jerk reaction to avoiding responsibility too, though she's been less and less good at the actual avoidance over the last year plus.
Collette sets her infuser down in the empty measuring cup, the glass singing out like a bell startled into ringing when the infuser slips out of her fingers. She flinches, drawing her hand back.
It's not a memory she feels should be bad, the sound of glass hitting against metal, or glass against glass. As if to avoid thinking about where it might come from (it's a flaw! how are we supposed to work with this? you can't get the kind of results we're being asked for like this!), she pulls back, leaving her tea on the table. )
Besides, you're my business. You don't need to be an inconvenience for me to care one way or the other.
( She doesn't like her own wordchoice, after the fact. With a shrug of her shoulders, she determinedly returns to reading. It's just difficult when she keeps losing her place in the same three paragraphs. )
no subject
Collette falls into a temporary silence. In the end, she reaches out to swirl her infuser around her mug, pulling it up to let the water drain back out into her tea. )
I'm used to it, I guess.
( She's not sure what else to say to that. It's just easier if people don't expect much out of her. It's that knee jerk reaction to avoiding responsibility too, though she's been less and less good at the actual avoidance over the last year plus.
Collette sets her infuser down in the empty measuring cup, the glass singing out like a bell startled into ringing when the infuser slips out of her fingers. She flinches, drawing her hand back.
It's not a memory she feels should be bad, the sound of glass hitting against metal, or glass against glass. As if to avoid thinking about where it might come from (it's a flaw! how are we supposed to work with this? you can't get the kind of results we're being asked for like this!), she pulls back, leaving her tea on the table. )
Besides, you're my business. You don't need to be an inconvenience for me to care one way or the other.
( She doesn't like her own wordchoice, after the fact. With a shrug of her shoulders, she determinedly returns to reading. It's just difficult when she keeps losing her place in the same three paragraphs. )