[ There's something nostalgic about it, the sound of singing through open doors. Claude can't say that he appreciates music beyond his ability to identify most pieces written during his time (for 'conversational purposes', he'd been taught), but he probably could have spent the next few minutes listening to Iona if he'd been given an opportunity.
He has his coffee brought to his lips when Iona finally appears, and he smiles carefully over the rim of his cup before he takes a sip and sets the porcelain back down onto its saucer. ]
Do try to smile less, you might blind someone with how bright it burns.
[ Play nice, Claude. He tips his head to the side. ]
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He has his coffee brought to his lips when Iona finally appears, and he smiles carefully over the rim of his cup before he takes a sip and sets the porcelain back down onto its saucer. ]
Do try to smile less, you might blind someone with how bright it burns.
[ Play nice, Claude. He tips his head to the side. ]
It's been a while.