[ Arthur exhales and it's a sound they're both used to by now. A healthy mix (or is it unhealthy) of exasperation and fondness, of patience and resignation. He's never been good at expressing certain things but he and Dom have known one another long enough for some certain things to not need expressing at all. (The remainder never get talked about or acknowledged and perhaps that's best for them; Arthur thinks so.)
There's a pair of filmsy plastic gloves on the counter. For the time being Dom's spared his dignity long enough to not insist he wear them straight away but Arthur glances at them reproachfully over his shoulder anyway.
His tone is skeptical. ] Such as—? [ A beat and he's interrupting her, cutting off certain routes of conversational escape before she manages to take them. ] And don't say 'the dream'.
no subject
There's a pair of filmsy plastic gloves on the counter. For the time being Dom's spared his dignity long enough to not insist he wear them straight away but Arthur glances at them reproachfully over his shoulder anyway.
His tone is skeptical. ] Such as—? [ A beat and he's interrupting her, cutting off certain routes of conversational escape before she manages to take them. ] And don't say 'the dream'.
'The dream's cheating.