[His shoulders slope with a sigh as Claude's chuckle signifies that he isn't mortally offended. It's the sort of thing he might have thrown at one of the guys at Forest Ridge, burns and barbs a central piece of the complex social webs teenage boys weave — but Claude is mostly a stranger and ostensibly an adult besides. (Wilhelm guesses that he's only a few years older than Erik was.)
Just to give his hands something to do while he listens, he wrings out his shed sweater over the pond. Surprise sneaks into his expression as Claude reveals that he's no stranger to people talking shit. The man commands confidence and charm so easily, it's hard to imagine him carrying around the weight of negative comments.
He should probably excuse himself, ask for the best way out. Instead, he stumbles on:]
Were you...bullied before?
[A clumsy question, though it's shaped with sympathy.]
no subject
Just to give his hands something to do while he listens, he wrings out his shed sweater over the pond. Surprise sneaks into his expression as Claude reveals that he's no stranger to people talking shit. The man commands confidence and charm so easily, it's hard to imagine him carrying around the weight of negative comments.
He should probably excuse himself, ask for the best way out. Instead, he stumbles on:]
Were you...bullied before?
[A clumsy question, though it's shaped with sympathy.]