It's a testament to how much he's grown, or opened up at least, just in the last 6 months; he's always felt more comfortable with Buffy than around others, but now he finds it easier to just talk with her; as well as move on when he says something awkward or, as she put it, without his brain-to-mouth filter engaging first.
This is what it's like, he thinks, watching her, if they could be friends. Never just friends, but they'd never been friends in the first place. It feels a little like doing things in reverse, but he's alright with that.
Watching her concentrate, the expressions she makes, sometimes even slightly mouthing through words and sentences without registering it, is soothing, and he doesn't realize he's fallen into an almost meditative state, his reflexive breathing slowing down until it actually stops for a while. That is, until she starts moving; shifting her legs and swinging them in the air behind her, tapping her pencil - watching her stick the pencil in her mouth and eventually bite it has him pressing his lips together and praying for strength.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. You're smart. They say after about an hour you stop retaining new information anyway." He's not sure where he heard that, but he's sure he has, somewhere.
His mouth is open before his brain-to-mouth filter does engage this time, and he stops himself from simply replying I love you. He's not sure she'd understand it as an answer to his not being bored around her, anyway. "I like watching you." He makes a face. "Okay, that came out creepier than I meant it. You do this-- you're expressive, when you're concentrating on something." Finally he just shrugs - since this isn't getting any better - and reiterates, "I like watching you," hoping she hears the I love you laced in there... but also almost hoping she doesn't.
no subject
It's a testament to how much he's grown, or opened up at least, just in the last 6 months; he's always felt more comfortable with Buffy than around others, but now he finds it easier to just talk with her; as well as move on when he says something awkward or, as she put it, without his brain-to-mouth filter engaging first.
This is what it's like, he thinks, watching her, if they could be friends. Never just friends, but they'd never been friends in the first place. It feels a little like doing things in reverse, but he's alright with that.
Watching her concentrate, the expressions she makes, sometimes even slightly mouthing through words and sentences without registering it, is soothing, and he doesn't realize he's fallen into an almost meditative state, his reflexive breathing slowing down until it actually stops for a while. That is, until she starts moving; shifting her legs and swinging them in the air behind her, tapping her pencil - watching her stick the pencil in her mouth and eventually bite it has him pressing his lips together and praying for strength.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. You're smart. They say after about an hour you stop retaining new information anyway." He's not sure where he heard that, but he's sure he has, somewhere.
His mouth is open before his brain-to-mouth filter does engage this time, and he stops himself from simply replying I love you. He's not sure she'd understand it as an answer to his not being bored around her, anyway. "I like watching you." He makes a face. "Okay, that came out creepier than I meant it. You do this-- you're expressive, when you're concentrating on something." Finally he just shrugs - since this isn't getting any better - and reiterates, "I like watching you," hoping she hears the I love you laced in there... but also almost hoping she doesn't.