Admittedly, he hadn't expected Fitzjames to engage and now that Fitzjames has, Prior has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. This certainly isn't a show of irresponsibility (although, if anyone is risking turning this into an entirely serious affair instead, it's Prior).
"Point made," he notes, his voice a low drawl of chastisement that leans a little too hard to be anything but a form of staunched amusement. If this is the brand of socializing expected, then Fitzjames is right to suggest it's not Prior's way.
Glancing around at the growing revelry, all at once Prior feels out-of-place and under-dressed. He's made no attempt at anything beyond his usual attire: a packing of shirts and over-shirts, trousers, socks-on-socks, the long officer's coat he'd come with (still coveted, like a security blanket).
If he were more cooperative, this would be easier. If he were less critical and less on guard, it might even be pleasurable.
(He remembers a time, once, when that was a word that he wanted to use to describe life. Not even all that long ago, really, although the circumstances were very different. Over Birtwhistle, over humiliation, he'd decided – no, re-decided – what pleasure was. It hadn't stuck, possibly because Prior can't be as bad as he imagines himself to be, but as equally likely because Prior been trained to feel nothing at all.)
Lifting his glass, he presents what remains in toast briefly enough to signal that's what it is before he downs it and sets the glass aside. "You seem the expert; I'll do this your way."
no subject
"Point made," he notes, his voice a low drawl of chastisement that leans a little too hard to be anything but a form of staunched amusement. If this is the brand of socializing expected, then Fitzjames is right to suggest it's not Prior's way.
Glancing around at the growing revelry, all at once Prior feels out-of-place and under-dressed. He's made no attempt at anything beyond his usual attire: a packing of shirts and over-shirts, trousers, socks-on-socks, the long officer's coat he'd come with (still coveted, like a security blanket).
If he were more cooperative, this would be easier. If he were less critical and less on guard, it might even be pleasurable.
(He remembers a time, once, when that was a word that he wanted to use to describe life. Not even all that long ago, really, although the circumstances were very different. Over Birtwhistle, over humiliation, he'd decided – no, re-decided – what pleasure was. It hadn't stuck, possibly because Prior can't be as bad as he imagines himself to be, but as equally likely because Prior been trained to feel nothing at all.)
Lifting his glass, he presents what remains in toast briefly enough to signal that's what it is before he downs it and sets the glass aside. "You seem the expert; I'll do this your way."