[He accepts it with an appreciative nod, curls his fingers around it. His shoulders are slightly hunched, his elbows balance on his crossed knees.]
A man you called Sarab. A stone hall. Someone-- wearing all green. Your father?
[He describes these things gingerly. There's artistry to his memory of it, and to hers, but words fail. He doesn't like that he's intruded. Too much like the echo of empty dance halls, the memory of Peggy's hand in his.]
no subject
A man you called Sarab. A stone hall. Someone-- wearing all green. Your father?
[He describes these things gingerly. There's artistry to his memory of it, and to hers, but words fail. He doesn't like that he's intruded. Too much like the echo of empty dance halls, the memory of Peggy's hand in his.]