Tal blinked and then scowled down at his supplies in embarrassment at being remembered from his childhood. A betraying flush crept up his neck and ears and he cleared his throat instead of responding properly.
The question, when it came, was an almost welcome distraction from the distant past. The more recent past was more painful, but less personally awkward, at least. Tal began working on the second side of his lantern with deft fingers clearly used to working with wood and delicate assemblies. "My parents," he said simply. "It's been a couple years, now. Three, for dad. Two for mom." He finally looked up, nodding at Delia's own handiwork. "What about you?"
The question, when it came, was an almost welcome distraction from the distant past. The more recent past was more painful, but less personally awkward, at least. Tal began working on the second side of his lantern with deft fingers clearly used to working with wood and delicate assemblies. "My parents," he said simply. "It's been a couple years, now. Three, for dad. Two for mom." He finally looked up, nodding at Delia's own handiwork. "What about you?"
