[There's still snow on the ground outside, and Dick sweeps a significant scatter of it through the door with him on the tails of his coat. It's a decent coat, cashmere, a little worn at the neck - a small signifier of a man who understands quality but doesn't give luxury the same kind of consideration. He looks somehow slighter than he should under the bulk of coat, sweater, scarf, hat, all of it leaving no way to tell how deeply cut with muscle the narrow body beneath may be.
He looks his age like this. There's a difference, too, in how he moves. The man in the other world wasn't born and raised an acrobat and didn't carry himself with the same dancer's grace. He's more pliable now, in assorted ways.
And he's looking for Wash, fully expecting to find him already at a table. It's what he'd do in a situation he wanted to keep the upper hand in - he'd be the one with his claim already staked, rather than bursting through the door with a smile.
And - bingo. Dick unwinds his scarf as he heads that way, careful and casual enough not to show the way something in his chest knits tight.]
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He looks his age like this. There's a difference, too, in how he moves. The man in the other world wasn't born and raised an acrobat and didn't carry himself with the same dancer's grace. He's more pliable now, in assorted ways.
And he's looking for Wash, fully expecting to find him already at a table. It's what he'd do in a situation he wanted to keep the upper hand in - he'd be the one with his claim already staked, rather than bursting through the door with a smile.
And - bingo. Dick unwinds his scarf as he heads that way, careful and casual enough not to show the way something in his chest knits tight.]
If you write me a note, I can buy you a drink.