Holden's been here a few months, has been aligned with Research for part of that time, has known Wysteria for all of it. There's no reason why he wouldn't know, by now, the kind of organized chaos that follows in her wake. But something about it still feels more familiar, more soothing, than it actually should, by rights.
It's not a sense he bothers to dwell on. But if he looks by parts more relaxed than when he came in, well. He picks up the pencil, taps it against the sheets a few times as he glances up at her maybe-an-insult, unruffled.
"I never thought I'd be so happy to wake up in the Gallows," he admits, by way of answer. "I'll never complain about these rooms again."
"Oh but you really should. Satisfaction is the enemy of innovation, Mister Holden. I think it to myself every time I find myself forced to dredge a hot bucket of water up a half dozen flights of stairs. But," she says, relenting by a degree which necessitates the gently re-organization of some of the papers before her lest she be mistaken for sentimental. "I will admit to being rather pleased with the familiarity of my pillow and blankets this morning. They are all of them very finely made."
She proceeds to unceremoniously jam the remainder of the toast slice into her mouth.
There's a small smile that pulls at his mouth, maybe familiar to her now, at the admission of sentiment (such as it is). Without looking up from whichever question he's answering,
Once she has managed to get past the world's largest bite of toast—Wysteria clears her throat and rustles a few more papers.
"I will tell you the same thing I told Mister Silver. It is far too early to begin to interpret the information. Begin too early, and one is prone to seeing only what they assume they will see." Is all very even handed and reasonable. A little more sullenly now, "It remains to be seen whether the sample size will be large enough to make any determinations whatsoever. The members of Riftwatch are, as always, very precious about their thoughts."
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It's not a sense he bothers to dwell on. But if he looks by parts more relaxed than when he came in, well. He picks up the pencil, taps it against the sheets a few times as he glances up at her maybe-an-insult, unruffled.
"I never thought I'd be so happy to wake up in the Gallows," he admits, by way of answer. "I'll never complain about these rooms again."
He never has, but you know. On principle.
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She proceeds to unceremoniously jam the remainder of the toast slice into her mouth.
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"Remind me to tell you about plumbing sometime."
Or maybe Tony already has.
"Have you found any patterns yet?"
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"I will tell you the same thing I told Mister Silver. It is far too early to begin to interpret the information. Begin too early, and one is prone to seeing only what they assume they will see." Is all very even handed and reasonable. A little more sullenly now, "It remains to be seen whether the sample size will be large enough to make any determinations whatsoever. The members of Riftwatch are, as always, very precious about their thoughts."