A note. Yes. I'll, [he's mumbling to himself, scratching out a note to make a note, which he will attach to the form, which will be placed before the pages Flint has just given him, and cataloged, and filed--and then the question abruptly comes, and--] What?
[What? He looks over at the wall.]
A window. I-- No. I don't think I would, no. Windows are--chaotic.
[If there is a slightly baffled shift in the lines of his face - that is certainly a word that can technically, in the very basic grammatical sense, be applied to a window -, then the change is very slight indeed.]
Well. [Sounds like realizing he's put his foot in something he doesn't actually have any desire to get all over his boot despite having steeped there of his own volition.] I’ll leave you to it then.
[Salvio--having first realized that he has said 1) too much and 2) too much in a way that does not necessarily make complete and total sense, and thus revealed some part of himself to a man who mildly terrifies him--is now realizing that it might have been better if he were never born, or at least if he had never made the series of decisions (or lack thereof) that brought him to Kirkwall. He is no longer looking at the wall but is staring sort of through it, confronting this paralyzing void.]
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[What? He looks over at the wall.]
A window. I-- No. I don't think I would, no. Windows are--chaotic.
no subject
Well. [Sounds like realizing he's put his foot in something he doesn't actually have any desire to get all over his boot despite having steeped there of his own volition.] I’ll leave you to it then.
no subject
Yes. Um. Thank-- Thank you, Commander.
Very good.