[Carlisle's gait slows to a halt. His eyes land on Qubit beside him, then cast themselves away as he witnesses his friend's inner turmoil manifesting across him — in his shoulders, on his features, in his posture and the way he puts a hand to his head.
For a moment, the clergyman is conflicted on how to react himself. A part of him considers remaining impassive, as he so often did with his congregation; that distance helped maintain his composure, allowed him to see the situation from a logical standpoint rather than an emotional one. It was, perhaps, what a Longinmouth ought to do.
However, another part of Carlisle knows good and well he's too close to Qubit for that. He wants to help his friend, even if it's just offering some kind of moral support as a sympathetic ear, or allowing him to right himself after a bout of unwelcome distress. Carlisle has been there many times himself, but rarely had anyone to offer such support to him.
But Qubit has. His fingers curl against his palms as he struggles with indecision.
In the end, he reaches out a hand, setting it tentatively on Qubit's shoulder. His touch is light, most of the pressure in his fingertips rather than his palm, but the fact he's opting for a physical gesture at all likely says volumes.]
I would suggest we speak of other things, but... I suspect you may not have spoken of this enough. Take your time.
no subject
For a moment, the clergyman is conflicted on how to react himself. A part of him considers remaining impassive, as he so often did with his congregation; that distance helped maintain his composure, allowed him to see the situation from a logical standpoint rather than an emotional one. It was, perhaps, what a Longinmouth ought to do.
However, another part of Carlisle knows good and well he's too close to Qubit for that. He wants to help his friend, even if it's just offering some kind of moral support as a sympathetic ear, or allowing him to right himself after a bout of unwelcome distress. Carlisle has been there many times himself, but rarely had anyone to offer such support to him.
But Qubit has. His fingers curl against his palms as he struggles with indecision.
In the end, he reaches out a hand, setting it tentatively on Qubit's shoulder. His touch is light, most of the pressure in his fingertips rather than his palm, but the fact he's opting for a physical gesture at all likely says volumes.]
I would suggest we speak of other things, but... I suspect you may not have spoken of this enough. Take your time.