[Out of the corner of his eye, he takes note of the bartender's ministrations, at least until Asra begins to speak. Toxic-looking mystery drinks? His favourite, consider him in.
But then Asra does start talking, and what he asks for is...so small and simple that he wonders at it. Make him dinner, or tea. No grand gesture required, no elaborate over-extension of the self. Just that small thing which Julian realises with a pang that he's certainly never done, not even the tea, and he had at least realised it to be something Asra likes.
The revelation comes next, and Julian watches the magician with an expression made unreadable by his own mixed emotions-- it's just not very Asra, to come out with something so open and honest and frank, with something that runs deep, or seems to. And the usual urges are there in him, to do something big and dramatic like sweep from his stool and engulf Asra in an embrace, tell him he's prepared to do all kinds of things - anything at all - to spare him from that kind of hurt again, despite all the hurt he still feels over the way things had played out between them but--
--but. That isn't what he's asking for. Very slowly, Julian reaches out a hand, fingertips brushing ghost-like across the back of Asra's knuckles before dropping away again, uncertain of where he stands, what he should and shouldn't do, how familiar he ought to be. He takes a breath.]
I, um, consider it as good as done. Just as soon as I have the means to do it. Or if you're, you know, having one of those days then uh, just send me one of those messages, on that device-thingy. I'll come over and make it.
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But then Asra does start talking, and what he asks for is...so small and simple that he wonders at it. Make him dinner, or tea. No grand gesture required, no elaborate over-extension of the self. Just that small thing which Julian realises with a pang that he's certainly never done, not even the tea, and he had at least realised it to be something Asra likes.
The revelation comes next, and Julian watches the magician with an expression made unreadable by his own mixed emotions-- it's just not very Asra, to come out with something so open and honest and frank, with something that runs deep, or seems to. And the usual urges are there in him, to do something big and dramatic like sweep from his stool and engulf Asra in an embrace, tell him he's prepared to do all kinds of things - anything at all - to spare him from that kind of hurt again, despite all the hurt he still feels over the way things had played out between them but--
--but. That isn't what he's asking for. Very slowly, Julian reaches out a hand, fingertips brushing ghost-like across the back of Asra's knuckles before dropping away again, uncertain of where he stands, what he should and shouldn't do, how familiar he ought to be. He takes a breath.]
I, um, consider it as good as done. Just as soon as I have the means to do it. Or if you're, you know, having one of those days then uh, just send me one of those messages, on that device-thingy. I'll come over and make it.