[ The last thing he wants to deal with right now is literally anything else. Charles Vane is in war mode, and he's already wondering if he'll regret not dragging Jack and Anne out into the streets to have a proper example made of them, while fully prepared to fight anyone who questions his decision on the matter.
The only thing he's regretting is that Jack made it necessary to choose in the first place.
He hears his men stop someone, and then recognizes the voice calling his name. Daphne has adapted well, and quickly, to life in Nassau, and her fast friendship with Charles made her less of an other among the pirates and the whores. Eleanor doesn't like her. He finds that to be an attractive detail, at the moment. ]
Let her through.
[ He stops to wait, but only half-turned toward her, one hand still resting on his pistol. He's not letting his guard down in the street. ]
Something I can help you with?
[ She'd better not ask him about Jack. He'd really hate to have to make an example out of her, but if she forces him, he will. ]
[She has to resist pushing the man who stopped her aside, has to resist watching him fall to the ground. She's been acting like a human ever since she was fished out of the ship, and barely done a thing to make anyone suspect she might be anything outside of a normal woman.
Being friends with Charles Vane doesn't exactly make a normal woman.
While her English is acceptable; she's a quick study, especially where her life is on the line, she switches to quick Spanish to speak to him, banking that of the men surrounding him, only a percentage will be able to follow along.]
You don't have time for a hello anymore?
[He never really had time for a hello in the first place - well. No, not time. Time wasn't the issue. It was always temperament.]
You disappeared. After Eleanor put that ban on your head. Have you found a way around that?
[ He sighs, but obliges the Spanish; she has yet to betray him, so there's enough reason to indulge her for a short while. ]
My men hold the fort. Therefore, my men control the bay.
[ He is the future of Nassau. Him, and men like him, and anyone prepared to acknowledge it; he said it in the brothel, and it can undoubtedly still be heard in his voice: he's less worried about perception than he used to be. ]
So I don't think Miss Guthrie has much fucking say in the matter. Do you?
[She refuses to call her Miss Guthrie; she can only barely get away with it, making excuses that she's not used to titles, or some bullshit like that. As if there's no equivalent in the language that she uses at home, or even in one of the more well-known languages.
There is.
She just doesn't give two shits about her, so. Petty as it might be.]
Are you courting war?
[Her eyes are dark, and fixed on him. If war is what he wants, then war is what he's going to get; she knows that look. Hell. She's had that look.]
I think it matters, if you took the fort to prove to her you could, or because this is your island and you're finally taking it.
[Not many people have the balls to talk to Charles like that, especially women. Daphne does. Daphne isn't afraid of him.]
[ His eyes narrow at her. More often than not, he's relieved by the frank way she talks to him, although Spanish may not be quite the buffer with this crew that it has been, since many of them bloodied their blades on the Spanish Main.
But they're drawing quite a crowd as it is. ]
If I thought it was your business, I still wouldn't tell you in the middle of the fucking street.
[ Most people in Nassau don't even bother to pretend they're not eavesdropping, particularly around the whorehouse. He's already spared Jack's life for a grievous offense; having Daphne interrogate him in Spanish in full view of just about everyone who already witnessed one act of mercy will swiftly put him in a position to either commit, or forego, a second one. ]
Come up to the fort.
[ He casts a glance at his men, who are watching the two of them with great interest, and then looks at her again, still guarded, almost insolent. ]
They might let you in.
[ Then he strides off down the street toward the hill, with his new crew in step behind him. ]
[She watches him go, and she doesn't follow; there's enough of dismissal in his words when he says those things. There are appreciative glances from the men who walk by her, appraising, the kind of look she gives a bracelet or a piece of silver.
She doesn't remark.
Instead she takes her time. Goes back, finishes her day out. Does not go back to the whorehouse, where Jack is undoubtedly trying to figure out his next move and discover if it's at the bottom of a bottle.
She makes her way up to the fort before sunset. She considers just slipping in, finding a shadow to hide her and sliding her way past the men, but ultimately decides not to. She is not a penitent. She raps on the door, and smiles her way in, all charming feline grace and teasing words. These men are not easily charmed, but these men also seem baffled by her, which works to her advantage.
Finding Charles, after that, is easy. There's someone guarding his door, some man who is missing a pair of teeth, and for that particular move she knows charm won't work. She just looks at him, flatly. The man leers. She sidesteps, quickly, and opens the door, moving so fast that he had no chance to catch her before she's inside and closing the door behind her.]
Why, Captain Vane, you look like a man recently rescued from a sinking ship.
[ He's been at the window, getting a very thorough sense of what can be seen from this vantage point at different hours, because it's supposed to have the most thorough view of the bay. When his door suddenly opens, he turns quickly, and has just enough time to roll his eyes before the door bursts open again.
"Cap'n, I tried to stop her! She slipped right past me!" ]
Do you think I can't see that?
[ If it were anyone else but Daphne, he'd have the man flayed and tossed over the wall of the fort just for letting someone walk right into his room, but he knows Daphne well enough to be sure that there was very little that poor bastard could have done to stop her from getting in here. At least there's no blood.
He comes down the steps from the window, ignoring Daphne for the moment and glowering at his sentry instead. ]
You're lucky I invited her myself. Now get the hell out of here, and send down someone who knows how to guard a fucking door.
[ A muttered 'yes, sir' and a sullen, mistrustful glance cast toward this sneaky woman later, the door closes one last time, leaving the two of them alone. Charles finally turns to her, with some exasperation. ]
[She takes stock of the room, turning a circle, and recognizing this is probably where Hornigold used to sit and drink late at night. The man is probably sitting in a bar now, plotting how to get his fort back. Daphne does not suspect any attempt will be easy. She's a unique case; no one else could manage what she just did.
Not even Eleanor Guthrie would be able to swagger her way into the fort like this. In fairness, Daphne has the benefit of anonymity, and not having destroyed Vane's life, but still.
She goes to the table, and settles on it.]
Here I am showing my new manners and calling you Captain Vane and everything.
[ Security is temporary. He knows that very well. But for the moment, it doesn't get much more secure than this.
He approaches the table, and leans around her without taking his eyes from her face, to pick up a bottle resting just behind her. Then he gestures for her to hand him a cup on her other side. ]
And I can promise you now, if you keep coming at me in front of my men like that, you won't receive such a warm welcome next time.
[She hands him a cup, and tips her head to one side. There's open curiosity in her face.]
I'll deal with that problem when it comes.
[She's not afraid of Charles Vane; he knows it, and it's a bedrock of their friendship. She's not afraid of anyone here. She thought, for a while, there had to be at least one other shifter on Nassau, somewhere, but if there is they haven't bothered to make themselves known, so she remains gently unconcerned.
She lifts her chin, and there's that calculating look on her face again.]
Why take the fort?
Are you doing it because you want to sit here, comfortable and fat on the trade, or do you have another reason?
[ His perspective exactly; should that problem come, it would signal to him an end of their friendship, because that lack of respect could not stand. Whether or not he'd be able to kill her - in more ways than one - would be of secondary concern to the necessity for treating her as an enemy in the first place.
But that's later, if at all, and he hopes not. So he pops the cork on the bottle, takes the cup, and pours some thickly red port into it, before offering it to her. The bottle he keeps for himself. ]
You think I give a fuck about trade?
[ He throws back a very deep swig. ]
I'm a pirate. I see something I want, I take it - and if I have to sink every ship in the bay first, then so be it.
I think you're a pirate, and half of you belongs to the ocean. Half of you can't stay trapped up here, watching the ships sink in the bay.
[She takes that cup, and takes a drink. It's very good; thick and rich on the tongue, sweet. Aged in a way that most wine around here never gets. He plundered it, then, from Hornigold's secret stash, she assumes.]
So which half are you going to kill? The one that wants the sea, or the one that wants Eleanor Guthrie to belly up to him?
[This is a dangerous thing, and she knows it. She also knows they're alone, and when they're alone, he's far more tolerant. If she had said this in front of his men, he would have shot her, at best.
She may not be afraid of him, but she doesn't actually want to end their friendship.]
[ The way he narrows his eyes at her this time is far more of a warning - although, knowing him as well as she does, she may notice that there's no rage behind it, like there would have been. Temper flaring, all bright and hot.
There's coldness there instead, now. He came back here prepared to do what was necessary. ]
I have no present need to kill anyone. Eleanor's a smart woman. She'll see that the only way the wind remains in her favor...
[ A gesture of the bottle. Yes, she's got a point, but so what. ]
[The first time she saw him, dehydrated, exhausted, disgusted with herself, she thought he must be a Simba. That her nose was lying to her because she had been on whatever drug the hunters had given her. It's his face, his hair, that look. The one he's giving her now. The lion in him.
She takes another drink, to give them both a second.
There are other questions she could ask. Equally pointed ones, but she knows the answer. Why didn't you take another ship. Why pretend that this is anything but what it is.]
She's not that smart. Not smarter than she is proud.
[ Normally, even a glancing blow at Eleanor like that would have sparked his temper, whether he was angry with her or not. This time he just snorts. ]
She's coming around already. Gave up the only advantage Hornigold's men might have had to try and take back the fort.
[ The tunnels. He'd made his demands, and she capitulated, because he left her no choice. Vane had the element of surprise on his side, and pressed it for every inch it was worth. ]
She'll push back, because she has to, but sooner or later she'll come to her senses.
[ He casts a brief glance back toward the window. ]
If that’s anything, it’s interesting. Certainly, it makes her eyes flick at him, and then away a little. She tugs her legs up, as if she weren’t wearing stays and a petticoat, and tucks them to sit cross legged, her skirts in her lap.]
You’re not wrong.
[Daphne doesn’t know Flint outside of reputation; he’s the kind of man that sees too much. The kind she avoids. So.]
What do you want from me, then?
[She asks with the knowledge that the answer might be nothing. Something changed in him, something good. He isn’t the same man who left in a drugged haze. This is the man who she met, six months ago.
She likes this.]
Other than to get out of your room.
[She doubts he wants that, anyway. She may not be golden haired and a symbol of everything that Charles thinks represents a future, but she is also one of the few people outside his crew who tells him the honest truth, even when he would want anything but.]
[ At that, he raises an eyebrow, and then holds the bottle toward her in an offer to top her off. ]
I want to actually celebrate the taking of this goddamn place.
[ His men have been very pleased with themselves, and have already started to haul up food and drink and spread across the tables in the courtyard with an excess of both. Vane told them to send some meat down to him, and in the meantime he has, in fact, been helping himself to Hornigold's stash. ]
[The smile that crosses her face is a flicker at first, and then it’s wide, slow, and she takes a long drink of wine, keeping her eyes on him. She’ll stay and drink and celebrate with him.
She does get up though, legs akimbo, and go to the window, to look out at the bay. The sun is setting now over the water, and she looks over at him.]
[ He watches her go for a moment or two before he follows her, bringing the bottle with him.
It's true. The view is one of a kind. ]
I am the future of Nassau. Whatever that future looks like.
[ Flint is going to take issue with that, and Vane knows the man well enough not to expect him to submit as efficiently as Eleanor did. Whether it's Flint or Spain or England, there will be a war on that beach sooner or later. But for now, everything is as it should be - including Hornigold's men erecting camp among the other crews on the stretch of sand. ]
You've made a home for yourself here, haven't you?
[She recognizes a king when she sees one, but there is a chill that goes down her spine. She is missing so much context here, and it makes her afraid that this will end in bloodshed and horror that she could stop. There is a storm coming.
Well.
She nods a little.]
I’ve done what I can, in any case. Passage home is no easy feat, even if I could find a ship willing.
[She takes a moment.]
My complaints are minimal, either way. Why? Do you want to invite me to take part in this future?
To tell you the truth, I never expected you to stay here this long.
[ Finding passage home is difficult, but not impossible, and while other women might balk at the idea of trying to make their way in the world alone, Daphne has never struck him as that sort of woman. ]
But whatever comes next, I'd like to know that I have you on my side for it.
The first few weeks she was in Nassau, she wanted nothing more than to try and find a way home. A ship to Tenerife; she could have stayed with her mother, and then found a way to Morocco, head towards Mecca, cross overland a bit, and finally another ship home. She's dangerous enough that she could manage it on her own, and she wanted to.
But she spent more time - so much more time - watching things unfold here. In India, she is a queen, and she misses that power, but there is a rawness here, on this nightmare spit of sand that she finds interesting.
So.]
I have debts to resolve.
[She looks up at him, her eyes a little dark.]
You could have used me, and you didn't. Before. You could have taken me to Cuba, where they planned on selling me to the governor there, and you didn't. It would have made you a fortune.
[She shrugs.]
Maybe Flint would have done the same. But he wasn't the one there that day.
[ Yes, he could have. Jack had even suggested it. But Vane refused, for one very significant reason: ]
You didn't belong to them, either.
[ He's not above ransom; far from it. Excellent way to bring in a significant payday without bloodshed or having to deal with pesky matters of economics. But Vane would only ransom back something that once belonged to his enemy in the first place.
He is not in the habit of treating people as cargo. ]
If you carried a powerful name from a wealthy family, I might well have taken the chance. But you were a wild thing, and this is where wild things come, sooner or later.
[A powerful name from a wealthy family. She practically has to hold back the bark of laughter that presses from between her teeth. She was both, and he doesn't know it.]
No. You're right. I didn't belong to them, either.
[She takes a moment.]
Go lie on the bed. On your belly. Take your shirt off.
[She goes to set her cup down, and she pauses before she does.]
You can keep a knife, if you want, to stab me if I do anything untoward.
[ He doesn't bother to hide his interest, lifting a curious eyebrow and watching her very carefully as she puts the cup aside.
With one more deep swallow from the bottle, still watching her, he follows, setting his drink down on the table beside her cup and dragging his shirt over his head without any hesitation.
It's his knife that makes him pause; he takes it from his belt, and makes a point of considering her with the blade in his hand, before finally and deliberately setting it down on the table as well. A purposeful gesture of trust.
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cribellate2022-02-27 11:31 am
no subject
The only thing he's regretting is that Jack made it necessary to choose in the first place.
He hears his men stop someone, and then recognizes the voice calling his name. Daphne has adapted well, and quickly, to life in Nassau, and her fast friendship with Charles made her less of an other among the pirates and the whores. Eleanor doesn't like her. He finds that to be an attractive detail, at the moment. ]
Let her through.
[ He stops to wait, but only half-turned toward her, one hand still resting on his pistol. He's not letting his guard down in the street. ]
Something I can help you with?
[ She'd better not ask him about Jack. He'd really hate to have to make an example out of her, but if she forces him, he will. ]
no subject
Being friends with Charles Vane doesn't exactly make a normal woman.
While her English is acceptable; she's a quick study, especially where her life is on the line, she switches to quick Spanish to speak to him, banking that of the men surrounding him, only a percentage will be able to follow along.]
You don't have time for a hello anymore?
[He never really had time for a hello in the first place - well. No, not time. Time wasn't the issue. It was always temperament.]
You disappeared. After Eleanor put that ban on your head. Have you found a way around that?
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My men hold the fort. Therefore, my men control the bay.
[ He is the future of Nassau. Him, and men like him, and anyone prepared to acknowledge it; he said it in the brothel, and it can undoubtedly still be heard in his voice: he's less worried about perception than he used to be. ]
So I don't think Miss Guthrie has much fucking say in the matter. Do you?
no subject
There is.
She just doesn't give two shits about her, so. Petty as it might be.]
Are you courting war?
[Her eyes are dark, and fixed on him. If war is what he wants, then war is what he's going to get; she knows that look. Hell. She's had that look.]
I think it matters, if you took the fort to prove to her you could, or because this is your island and you're finally taking it.
[Not many people have the balls to talk to Charles like that, especially women. Daphne does. Daphne isn't afraid of him.]
Which one is it?
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But they're drawing quite a crowd as it is. ]
If I thought it was your business, I still wouldn't tell you in the middle of the fucking street.
[ Most people in Nassau don't even bother to pretend they're not eavesdropping, particularly around the whorehouse. He's already spared Jack's life for a grievous offense; having Daphne interrogate him in Spanish in full view of just about everyone who already witnessed one act of mercy will swiftly put him in a position to either commit, or forego, a second one. ]
Come up to the fort.
[ He casts a glance at his men, who are watching the two of them with great interest, and then looks at her again, still guarded, almost insolent. ]
They might let you in.
[ Then he strides off down the street toward the hill, with his new crew in step behind him. ]
no subject
She doesn't remark.
Instead she takes her time. Goes back, finishes her day out. Does not go back to the whorehouse, where Jack is undoubtedly trying to figure out his next move and discover if it's at the bottom of a bottle.
She makes her way up to the fort before sunset. She considers just slipping in, finding a shadow to hide her and sliding her way past the men, but ultimately decides not to. She is not a penitent. She raps on the door, and smiles her way in, all charming feline grace and teasing words. These men are not easily charmed, but these men also seem baffled by her, which works to her advantage.
Finding Charles, after that, is easy. There's someone guarding his door, some man who is missing a pair of teeth, and for that particular move she knows charm won't work. She just looks at him, flatly. The man leers. She sidesteps, quickly, and opens the door, moving so fast that he had no chance to catch her before she's inside and closing the door behind her.]
Why, Captain Vane, you look like a man recently rescued from a sinking ship.
no subject
"Cap'n, I tried to stop her! She slipped right past me!" ]
Do you think I can't see that?
[ If it were anyone else but Daphne, he'd have the man flayed and tossed over the wall of the fort just for letting someone walk right into his room, but he knows Daphne well enough to be sure that there was very little that poor bastard could have done to stop her from getting in here. At least there's no blood.
He comes down the steps from the window, ignoring Daphne for the moment and glowering at his sentry instead. ]
You're lucky I invited her myself. Now get the hell out of here, and send down someone who knows how to guard a fucking door.
[ A muttered 'yes, sir' and a sullen, mistrustful glance cast toward this sneaky woman later, the door closes one last time, leaving the two of them alone. Charles finally turns to her, with some exasperation. ]
You're pushing your luck, Daphne.
no subject
[She takes stock of the room, turning a circle, and recognizing this is probably where Hornigold used to sit and drink late at night. The man is probably sitting in a bar now, plotting how to get his fort back. Daphne does not suspect any attempt will be easy. She's a unique case; no one else could manage what she just did.
Not even Eleanor Guthrie would be able to swagger her way into the fort like this. In fairness, Daphne has the benefit of anonymity, and not having destroyed Vane's life, but still.
She goes to the table, and settles on it.]
Here I am showing my new manners and calling you Captain Vane and everything.
[There's a sharpness to her smile.]
But you look altogether cozy up here.
no subject
[ Security is temporary. He knows that very well. But for the moment, it doesn't get much more secure than this.
He approaches the table, and leans around her without taking his eyes from her face, to pick up a bottle resting just behind her. Then he gestures for her to hand him a cup on her other side. ]
And I can promise you now, if you keep coming at me in front of my men like that, you won't receive such a warm welcome next time.
no subject
I'll deal with that problem when it comes.
[She's not afraid of Charles Vane; he knows it, and it's a bedrock of their friendship. She's not afraid of anyone here. She thought, for a while, there had to be at least one other shifter on Nassau, somewhere, but if there is they haven't bothered to make themselves known, so she remains gently unconcerned.
She lifts her chin, and there's that calculating look on her face again.]
Why take the fort?
Are you doing it because you want to sit here, comfortable and fat on the trade, or do you have another reason?
no subject
But that's later, if at all, and he hopes not. So he pops the cork on the bottle, takes the cup, and pours some thickly red port into it, before offering it to her. The bottle he keeps for himself. ]
You think I give a fuck about trade?
[ He throws back a very deep swig. ]
I'm a pirate. I see something I want, I take it - and if I have to sink every ship in the bay first, then so be it.
no subject
[She takes that cup, and takes a drink. It's very good; thick and rich on the tongue, sweet. Aged in a way that most wine around here never gets. He plundered it, then, from Hornigold's secret stash, she assumes.]
So which half are you going to kill? The one that wants the sea, or the one that wants Eleanor Guthrie to belly up to him?
[This is a dangerous thing, and she knows it. She also knows they're alone, and when they're alone, he's far more tolerant. If she had said this in front of his men, he would have shot her, at best.
She may not be afraid of him, but she doesn't actually want to end their friendship.]
I'm not blind.
no subject
There's coldness there instead, now. He came back here prepared to do what was necessary. ]
I have no present need to kill anyone. Eleanor's a smart woman. She'll see that the only way the wind remains in her favor...
[ A gesture of the bottle. Yes, she's got a point, but so what. ]
...is if she aligns her path with mine.
no subject
She takes another drink, to give them both a second.
There are other questions she could ask. Equally pointed ones, but she knows the answer. Why didn't you take another ship. Why pretend that this is anything but what it is.]
She's not that smart. Not smarter than she is proud.
Should I prepare for war?
no subject
She's coming around already. Gave up the only advantage Hornigold's men might have had to try and take back the fort.
[ The tunnels. He'd made his demands, and she capitulated, because he left her no choice. Vane had the element of surprise on his side, and pressed it for every inch it was worth. ]
She'll push back, because she has to, but sooner or later she'll come to her senses.
[ He casts a brief glance back toward the window. ]
It's Flint I have to worry about.
no subject
If that’s anything, it’s interesting. Certainly, it makes her eyes flick at him, and then away a little. She tugs her legs up, as if she weren’t wearing stays and a petticoat, and tucks them to sit cross legged, her skirts in her lap.]
You’re not wrong.
[Daphne doesn’t know Flint outside of reputation; he’s the kind of man that sees too much. The kind she avoids. So.]
What do you want from me, then?
[She asks with the knowledge that the answer might be nothing. Something changed in him, something good. He isn’t the same man who left in a drugged haze. This is the man who she met, six months ago.
She likes this.]
Other than to get out of your room.
[She doubts he wants that, anyway. She may not be golden haired and a symbol of everything that Charles thinks represents a future, but she is also one of the few people outside his crew who tells him the honest truth, even when he would want anything but.]
no subject
I want to actually celebrate the taking of this goddamn place.
[ His men have been very pleased with themselves, and have already started to haul up food and drink and spread across the tables in the courtyard with an excess of both. Vane told them to send some meat down to him, and in the meantime he has, in fact, been helping himself to Hornigold's stash. ]
So, you can stay and drink, or get the fuck out.
no subject
She does get up though, legs akimbo, and go to the window, to look out at the bay. The sun is setting now over the water, and she looks over at him.]
It is a rather spectacular view, captain.
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It's true. The view is one of a kind. ]
I am the future of Nassau. Whatever that future looks like.
[ Flint is going to take issue with that, and Vane knows the man well enough not to expect him to submit as efficiently as Eleanor did. Whether it's Flint or Spain or England, there will be a war on that beach sooner or later. But for now, everything is as it should be - including Hornigold's men erecting camp among the other crews on the stretch of sand. ]
You've made a home for yourself here, haven't you?
no subject
Well.
She nods a little.]
I’ve done what I can, in any case. Passage home is no easy feat, even if I could find a ship willing.
[She takes a moment.]
My complaints are minimal, either way. Why? Do you want to invite me to take part in this future?
no subject
[ Finding passage home is difficult, but not impossible, and while other women might balk at the idea of trying to make their way in the world alone, Daphne has never struck him as that sort of woman. ]
But whatever comes next, I'd like to know that I have you on my side for it.
no subject
The first few weeks she was in Nassau, she wanted nothing more than to try and find a way home. A ship to Tenerife; she could have stayed with her mother, and then found a way to Morocco, head towards Mecca, cross overland a bit, and finally another ship home. She's dangerous enough that she could manage it on her own, and she wanted to.
But she spent more time - so much more time - watching things unfold here. In India, she is a queen, and she misses that power, but there is a rawness here, on this nightmare spit of sand that she finds interesting.
So.]
I have debts to resolve.
[She looks up at him, her eyes a little dark.]
You could have used me, and you didn't. Before. You could have taken me to Cuba, where they planned on selling me to the governor there, and you didn't. It would have made you a fortune.
[She shrugs.]
Maybe Flint would have done the same. But he wasn't the one there that day.
no subject
You didn't belong to them, either.
[ He's not above ransom; far from it. Excellent way to bring in a significant payday without bloodshed or having to deal with pesky matters of economics. But Vane would only ransom back something that once belonged to his enemy in the first place.
He is not in the habit of treating people as cargo. ]
If you carried a powerful name from a wealthy family, I might well have taken the chance. But you were a wild thing, and this is where wild things come, sooner or later.
no subject
No. You're right. I didn't belong to them, either.
[She takes a moment.]
Go lie on the bed. On your belly. Take your shirt off.
[She goes to set her cup down, and she pauses before she does.]
You can keep a knife, if you want, to stab me if I do anything untoward.
I want to give you a gift.
no subject
With one more deep swallow from the bottle, still watching her, he follows, setting his drink down on the table beside her cup and dragging his shirt over his head without any hesitation.
It's his knife that makes him pause; he takes it from his belt, and makes a point of considering her with the blade in his hand, before finally and deliberately setting it down on the table as well. A purposeful gesture of trust.
Then he moves to stretch out on the bed. ]
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