She makes a sweeping gesture to indicate that Jean can sit wherever they want in this apartment, because she has to abandon her tea for a moment. Kneels down in front of the altar, opening it up and reaching into the back, feeling for where she's hidden the Page away, having rolled it into a tight scroll and made it difficult to get to on purpose. Unlikely that someone would break into her house, but not impossible, and she takes it out, still shining, in its roll.
Looking back at Jean, there's something in her face. Something perhaps only they can understand, the sensation of handing someone a knife and gesturing at yourself. Go on. Cut.
"Where will you keep it?"
It's still in her hand. As long as it's in her hand, it's safe.
no subject
She makes a sweeping gesture to indicate that Jean can sit wherever they want in this apartment, because she has to abandon her tea for a moment. Kneels down in front of the altar, opening it up and reaching into the back, feeling for where she's hidden the Page away, having rolled it into a tight scroll and made it difficult to get to on purpose. Unlikely that someone would break into her house, but not impossible, and she takes it out, still shining, in its roll.
Looking back at Jean, there's something in her face. Something perhaps only they can understand, the sensation of handing someone a knife and gesturing at yourself. Go on. Cut.
"Where will you keep it?"
It's still in her hand. As long as it's in her hand, it's safe.