It was hot when he'd come inside, hotter than he's used to, and the extra time he's given himself taking the blanket off him hasn't changed that much. He straightens the drape of the shapeless thing over the hook it's hanging from and carefully doesn't sigh. It'll be him, then. He won't swipe an arm across his skin to check, not with eyes on him, but he'll be sweating. He realises he can feel his heart beating hard.
From the corner of his vision he can see Fitzjames settling, elegant and composed, into the chair at the table. With the way the movement of the bow had caught the man's eye the ease in the motion must be at least a little bit deliberate, another pointed gesture to him. Someone Francis holds that dear talking to him with that distance and challenge in his voice that Raju recognizes from the years in Delhi, from different men with different reasons to feel the same way about him, that Raju was a threat—
But of course Fitzjames would, now. Raju can compose himself the same can't he, and ignore all this other feeling? He'd always been good at it before, when he'd been more in practice.
"I know their faces," he answers, voice flat. He isn't more in practice; he would have sounded perfectly friendly before. It had been different before. It had been fun, making himself friendly and polite in a pointed way that left the other men looking for an insult. That feeling is the furthest thing from him now, fending off that kind of accusation.
He doesn't just shoot anyone who comes close enough. It doesn't matter whether Fitzjames has a reason to know it or not, he doesn't. That this is the first time since the attacks started that he's seen anyone nearby, the first time he's had the chance, that doesn't mean he's not...
He turns toward the kitchen, starting to unbutton the outermost layer of the shirts he wears, always at least two at a time over an undershirt to keep himself something like warm. Fitzjames won't know shedding one of them inside isn't usual, and if Raju does nothing but wait to calm down he'll be sweating through both layers long before anything else inside him eases. "And their names. You're all welcome to come as you like.
"I'll wash those dishes, Francis," Raju goes on. "Maybe you can stoke the fire; if Captain Fitzjames is staying long enough for a meal he should be warm enough to take off his coat."
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From the corner of his vision he can see Fitzjames settling, elegant and composed, into the chair at the table. With the way the movement of the bow had caught the man's eye the ease in the motion must be at least a little bit deliberate, another pointed gesture to him. Someone Francis holds that dear talking to him with that distance and challenge in his voice that Raju recognizes from the years in Delhi, from different men with different reasons to feel the same way about him, that Raju was a threat—
But of course Fitzjames would, now. Raju can compose himself the same can't he, and ignore all this other feeling? He'd always been good at it before, when he'd been more in practice.
"I know their faces," he answers, voice flat. He isn't more in practice; he would have sounded perfectly friendly before. It had been different before. It had been fun, making himself friendly and polite in a pointed way that left the other men looking for an insult. That feeling is the furthest thing from him now, fending off that kind of accusation.
He doesn't just shoot anyone who comes close enough. It doesn't matter whether Fitzjames has a reason to know it or not, he doesn't. That this is the first time since the attacks started that he's seen anyone nearby, the first time he's had the chance, that doesn't mean he's not...
He turns toward the kitchen, starting to unbutton the outermost layer of the shirts he wears, always at least two at a time over an undershirt to keep himself something like warm. Fitzjames won't know shedding one of them inside isn't usual, and if Raju does nothing but wait to calm down he'll be sweating through both layers long before anything else inside him eases. "And their names. You're all welcome to come as you like.
"I'll wash those dishes, Francis," Raju goes on. "Maybe you can stoke the fire; if Captain Fitzjames is staying long enough for a meal he should be warm enough to take off his coat."