Unsurprised as he was to hear about Ronan's reaction to Henry, Gansey had hoped. Back home, Ronan had learned to live with it, first by ignoring him completely, and later by little gestures, and then total resignation. If Gansey squinted, he could see that Ronan actually liked him a bit.
"He'll come around," Gansey said. He had no doubt. If in being right he also managed to reassure Henry, that was even better. A knowing smile disappeared over the rim of his cup as he drank. He listened. He extrapolated. He calculated.
"Mm," he murmured around his drink, and he set the cup down. This noise meant excuse me and he set his coffee on the edge of the table. For a moment, he disappeared into his room and when he reappeared, he had an envelope. "I saw this before I came out." He pointed to the hand-written name on the front. Richard Gansey III. A solvable mystery.
"Dimera, number 51," he read. That, he didn't like. An envelope with his name on it, the contents of which were a wallet, an ID that had his drivers' licence picture on it, keys to an apartment and an ostentatious cell phone that Gansey found somewhat pleasing in its big-screened simplicity. He was sure he'd have to find a middle schooler to show him how to use it.
Gansey frowned. If this wasn't his place of residence, why had he been plunked down in it? He had no intention of going to a strange apartment with his envelope of cash and a bank card that looked so simple Gansey almost winced at it.
"Where does it come from? All of this?" The money, the ID, the assigned room that made Gansey itch to disobey. If he had his way, he'd never see the inside of Dimera and he'd smile in any face to keep it that way.
no subject
"He'll come around," Gansey said. He had no doubt. If in being right he also managed to reassure Henry, that was even better. A knowing smile disappeared over the rim of his cup as he drank. He listened. He extrapolated. He calculated.
"Mm," he murmured around his drink, and he set the cup down. This noise meant excuse me and he set his coffee on the edge of the table. For a moment, he disappeared into his room and when he reappeared, he had an envelope. "I saw this before I came out." He pointed to the hand-written name on the front. Richard Gansey III. A solvable mystery.
"Dimera, number 51," he read. That, he didn't like. An envelope with his name on it, the contents of which were a wallet, an ID that had his drivers' licence picture on it, keys to an apartment and an ostentatious cell phone that Gansey found somewhat pleasing in its big-screened simplicity. He was sure he'd have to find a middle schooler to show him how to use it.
Gansey frowned. If this wasn't his place of residence, why had he been plunked down in it? He had no intention of going to a strange apartment with his envelope of cash and a bank card that looked so simple Gansey almost winced at it.
"Where does it come from? All of this?" The money, the ID, the assigned room that made Gansey itch to disobey. If he had his way, he'd never see the inside of Dimera and he'd smile in any face to keep it that way.