Everyone is a genius is hindsight, making Jude a genius when he guesses right. He doesn't expect to be right, and even if he was, he certainly doesn't expect Near to say so. Instead, Near admits to it, something honest and direct, and Jude's default blank expression schools itself into a different kind of neutral. He lowers his eyes and his shoulders, modest and no longer primed for a fight, and he sheds his backpack and leaves it leaning against the couch.
"Water is fine." The water in Seattle tastes fine to him. Moving around the States, he's sipped from a variety of taps. Some are bitter, more mineral. Some are saltier, just the faintest edge of it. There are places where he just buys Evian, as Near suspects.
He preempts further offers with, "I ate before I saw you." Now he walks to the couch and sits down on it. He doesn't lean back or slouch. He sits up attentively -- graciously? He looks at Near's back as he fills the glass, then averts his eyes when Near turns around. As if staring is rude. As if they are not mutually rude.
It's just a very sentimental thing, a serious thing, to have waited for him. He is annoyed again at Near for unsettling him, but the annoyance is now tamped down by a different moodiness.
"Water is fine." The water in Seattle tastes fine to him. Moving around the States, he's sipped from a variety of taps. Some are bitter, more mineral. Some are saltier, just the faintest edge of it. There are places where he just buys Evian, as Near suspects.
He preempts further offers with, "I ate before I saw you." Now he walks to the couch and sits down on it. He doesn't lean back or slouch. He sits up attentively -- graciously? He looks at Near's back as he fills the glass, then averts his eyes when Near turns around. As if staring is rude. As if they are not mutually rude.
It's just a very sentimental thing, a serious thing, to have waited for him. He is annoyed again at Near for unsettling him, but the annoyance is now tamped down by a different moodiness.