[ He picks up the cigarettes first, and—without warning, except for a deliberate slowness of movement (this is normal, this is comfortable)—sets them on Sanzo's knee, and picks up the book.
He opens on a random page, and his expression smooths out while he reads. A few poems later he speaks up, voice neutral: ]
You have good taste. [ He closes it and sets it back in the grass with a smug glance at Sanzo. ] Or an old man's taste.
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He opens on a random page, and his expression smooths out while he reads. A few poems later he speaks up, voice neutral: ]
You have good taste. [ He closes it and sets it back in the grass with a smug glance at Sanzo. ] Or an old man's taste.