[ alucard alternates between petting the dog and watching anderson: it's a lot to think about, but the silence between them isn't bad. it's the kind of silence he needs right now. it's not until the priest comes over with food and coffee that he moves much, letting anderson take baskerville off his lap--the dog whining but allowing himself to be moved, albeit sulkily--and then kind of... staring at the pancakes a moment like they're an alien creature having taken up residence in his lap.
he gets it. he does. he just doesn't know why.
but anderson speaking lets him just nod a little, lips quirking into an attempt at a smile at least as he cuts off a piece from his stack and spears it with his fork, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully as he scoots back a little further into the cushions. ]
Well, they're not wrong. [ he says it with a curious softness, then glances over at him. ]
They're good.
[ comforting, in a way. a surprising way. still, blood and chocolate pancakes are good either way. ]
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he gets it. he does. he just doesn't know why.
but anderson speaking lets him just nod a little, lips quirking into an attempt at a smile at least as he cuts off a piece from his stack and spears it with his fork, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully as he scoots back a little further into the cushions. ]
Well, they're not wrong. [ he says it with a curious softness, then glances over at him. ]
They're good.
[ comforting, in a way. a surprising way. still, blood and chocolate pancakes are good either way. ]