( how rude. paul huffs a laugh, small and genuine, paternally smoothing alina's hair back down her skull, twisting the ends around the knuckles of his first two fingers, braiding it like a ring around him. he wonders what alina's expression would look like, if he asked for a lock of her hair to have on him always — he imagines equal parts wry and endeared, and smiles dumbly at himself, tilting his head down to nose into her hairline.

he also wasn't listening, so it takes a second to play catch-up in the conversation. then, on auto-pilot — )

They don't. Zapodidae do though, and they're a little like the kangaroo mice of Arrakis.

( responsibly, he picks up her offered goodies and tears open the pull tab of the plastic, more than a little amused she couldn't do that much — but also a little warm and soft and humbled he gets to take care of her even in the small, silly ways. he fingers through lesser flavors at the top of the bag and picks out a strawberry pink bear, holding it in front of alina's mouth for her to eat. he gets another one ready for her, whenever she wants it, pinched between his pointer and thumb finger.

and, since he imagines he'll have to be the one to broach the subject, he injects it a little clumsily, )

How do you feel about the memory-share now?