Bedside manner

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned With a boyish and easy grace, Remi waved his hand easily, absolving Rory of whatever it was lacing his words and creasing the corners of his all-too-blue eyes. "Think nothing of it." The alchemist replied warmly, raising his hands from the bed and placing them lightly against his arms as if encircling himself in a hug. "I came by once to see you, but you were not home. I have ... I was given a mask. It lets me see outside of the barrier. I thought perhaps you might want to look." Remi's eyes flickered uncertainly. There was a glint of mischief and hope in them, but also a sort of wariness, as he expected Rory to rebuke the idea. "And yes, please. You can come by anytime. Or ... we could always meet somewhere else. My shop is not that interesting, unless for some reason you want to see all my half-completed ideas." Laughing at himself, Remi ran a hand through his hair and shook his head wryly. "Well, I should let you get some rest. I am very glad that you are alright." Raising his eyes, he tried to find Rory's, if only for a moment. It was so difficult to hold that too-blue stare, but he made an effort nonetheless. There were things now perhaps he'd never say, and a friendship with Rory somehow seemed second place to some nameless ghost that had drifted away, but still Remi cherished the thought. If for no other reason (though there were plenty of reasons), Rory was special to the alchemist, as he was the first person he had ever met here.