[ Tony had always had this way of looking at her; like she'd personally hung the stars and the moon to the sky. He's looking at her with that same sense of wonderment now, and Pepper lowers her gaze down to the soft weight of the cloak she's clutching in her arms, quietly bashful over it in spite of herself. The news of two years -- or rather, one year and however many months -- separating them fails to leave her alone, uncertain how to navigate this elusive but present strangeness between them. Ylva's words have her biting her lip, not feeling much less like a fraud over them as she takes a seat, the cloak bundled on her lap. Lady Potts. Finally sliding her gaze back to meet Tony's, it's apparently nothing to fuss over. She hasn't done anything yet for anybody, but Tony... that's another thing entirely. What must he have gone through here, so far? ]
Thanks, [ she says quietly at his compliment, smiling a little wanly. The odd distance between them lifts its head again even though he's right there next to her. It's not exactly awkwardness, but something close to it. You look weary, she wants to respond, her gaze tracking his familiar features, but swallows the words back just before they escape. They're still not exactly alone, after all. The fireplace hums softly behind them, and she gropes for something to say. ]
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Thanks, [ she says quietly at his compliment, smiling a little wanly. The odd distance between them lifts its head again even though he's right there next to her. It's not exactly awkwardness, but something close to it. You look weary, she wants to respond, her gaze tracking his familiar features, but swallows the words back just before they escape. They're still not exactly alone, after all. The fireplace hums softly behind them, and she gropes for something to say. ]
They'll, um-- deliver the rest. The clothes.