[ Irving doesn't flinch, doesn't shake, when Jack takes his hand, an atmosphere of solemn acceptance of the inevitable having descended over him now too saliently for him to continue ignoring-- usually, obviously, such compartmentalization simply goes without saying for Irving, something that comes as easily and as naturally to him as breathing, but it's become increasingly clear that, like it or not, things may have to be different now.
No: will have to be different. ]
You'll have to show me. How to...
[ Which shouldn't be embarrassing to say, because why would Irving know how to... well, do anything with another man? and yet it still is embarrassing in a way, not to articulate such a lack of experience but to acquiesce out loud: he's complying, he's saying yes. Irving's hand curls a little within Jack's, fingers drawing close against his own palm. ]
no subject
No: will have to be different. ]
You'll have to show me. How to...
[ Which shouldn't be embarrassing to say, because why would Irving know how to... well, do anything with another man? and yet it still is embarrassing in a way, not to articulate such a lack of experience but to acquiesce out loud: he's complying, he's saying yes. Irving's hand curls a little within Jack's, fingers drawing close against his own palm. ]
And it must be somewhere no one will see us.