[ The meaning behind the meaning that has no meaning. It's obvious, in a way. So obvious, it divulges a truth that settles as an awkward weight on his heart: He's saying it for his benefit.
If the point is the pleasure of it, the comfort of being allowed to touch your hand to someone else's and have their fingers tighten and pull around you. Someone you care about. Someone who cares about you in return, to a lesser, or greater, or indeterminable extent… That can be meaning enough. Emotionally, it doesn't have to evolve past that, is what the agent is saying. What he and Jaekwan are offering to Soleum. He understands that.
Still, the muscles in his cheeks tense with the compulsion to wince, but in glimpsing Agent Choi's own expression, what he can only read as a sort of openness to, well, whatever Soleum decides, to reject them or not, he compromises by looking fairly scorned. As if he's just been gently reminded his annual workplace conduct training is a day overdue. Which isn't meant to make him feel guilty, but the kindness of it is nearly potent enough to rattle him into surrendering. Soleum rubs at his wrist, pressing against the tattoo seared there, hidden to the naked eye. Just one thing of everything else he can't explain to the people in front of him.
They're not asking me to, Soleum clarifies in his own mind. The thing is, when you welcome others to see a confidential part of you, to file it away in their own understanding of who you are, where does it stop? Where do you? That's the piece he isn't confident in. Himself, and what he'll want, given the chance to want. He's only human, after all.
Neglecting to answer for a time, he softly lets out a breath. His escapes the conversation at hand with a glance toward the kitchen area. ]
…If it isn't any trouble, could I have a glass of water, please? [ He starts to push up off from his knees. ] I can fetch it myself if you tell me which cabinet.
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If the point is the pleasure of it, the comfort of being allowed to touch your hand to someone else's and have their fingers tighten and pull around you. Someone you care about. Someone who cares about you in return, to a lesser, or greater, or indeterminable extent… That can be meaning enough. Emotionally, it doesn't have to evolve past that, is what the agent is saying. What he and Jaekwan are offering to Soleum. He understands that.
Still, the muscles in his cheeks tense with the compulsion to wince, but in glimpsing Agent Choi's own expression, what he can only read as a sort of openness to, well, whatever Soleum decides, to reject them or not, he compromises by looking fairly scorned. As if he's just been gently reminded his annual workplace conduct training is a day overdue. Which isn't meant to make him feel guilty, but the kindness of it is nearly potent enough to rattle him into surrendering. Soleum rubs at his wrist, pressing against the tattoo seared there, hidden to the naked eye. Just one thing of everything else he can't explain to the people in front of him.
They're not asking me to, Soleum clarifies in his own mind. The thing is, when you welcome others to see a confidential part of you, to file it away in their own understanding of who you are, where does it stop? Where do you? That's the piece he isn't confident in. Himself, and what he'll want, given the chance to want. He's only human, after all.
Neglecting to answer for a time, he softly lets out a breath. His escapes the conversation at hand with a glance toward the kitchen area. ]
…If it isn't any trouble, could I have a glass of water, please? [ He starts to push up off from his knees. ] I can fetch it myself if you tell me which cabinet.