[ It's comforting, that gesture. The human contact. For a moment, there's a subtle crack in the mask of her carefully crafted indifference — she instinctively leans towards him as he leans towards her, those dark eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly when he kisses the top of her head, something soft and a little sad in her face.
Her wryness is absent and quiet when she answers him: ]
no subject
Her wryness is absent and quiet when she answers him: ]
You're lucky I'm that kind of wife.