It's often enough, considering he expected far fewer visits for all he waits for her for a little every night, that he starts to feel a little more positive about the idea that she might actually be a friend. Who else would put up with the way he makes them feel so much? Some nights, if it's later than others, he takes longer to get to the door, but then, surely he must be sleeping, right? (Only not at all. There is only one open room with a bed in it, and it is completely untouched. There's one bedroom in the far back with the door firmly shut, though, and who knows what's actually in there?)
The inside of the house is weirdly put together, anyway. The rooms look like they were put together out of used furniture and makeshift shelving (cinder blocks and boards, anyone?) but in such a way that they mimic something out of a magazine. Corwin, after all, isn't fully a person. Right now, he's just trying to look like he is. The odd effect is almost ruined, though, because most of it is either covered with books and magazines and open notebooks with Corwin's messy handwriting all over it... or bits and pieces of what are obviously experiments or lab equipment or both. It might convey the idea of a mad scientist, but always Corwin hurries to clear off places for Malin to sit, should she want to, and if she can't take the books, she's welcome to sit and read if she would rather do that than talk or listen to him ramble about those experiments. That, by the way, is where the alchemical compounds smell came from... he has a lot of that bubbling around in the kitchen and back den.
Lucky for her, too, the windows all have heavy curtains, so it's unlikely anyone will glimpse her through them.
When she finally addresses his offer, he blinks at her. "If people are taking pictures of you, they might want to hurt you," he says, earnestly. "I don't want you to be hurt." The phrase "you're my friend" wants to come out, but he's not quite bold enough to claim it to her face yet.
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The inside of the house is weirdly put together, anyway. The rooms look like they were put together out of used furniture and makeshift shelving (cinder blocks and boards, anyone?) but in such a way that they mimic something out of a magazine. Corwin, after all, isn't fully a person. Right now, he's just trying to look like he is. The odd effect is almost ruined, though, because most of it is either covered with books and magazines and open notebooks with Corwin's messy handwriting all over it... or bits and pieces of what are obviously experiments or lab equipment or both. It might convey the idea of a mad scientist, but always Corwin hurries to clear off places for Malin to sit, should she want to, and if she can't take the books, she's welcome to sit and read if she would rather do that than talk or listen to him ramble about those experiments. That, by the way, is where the alchemical compounds smell came from... he has a lot of that bubbling around in the kitchen and back den.
Lucky for her, too, the windows all have heavy curtains, so it's unlikely anyone will glimpse her through them.
When she finally addresses his offer, he blinks at her. "If people are taking pictures of you, they might want to hurt you," he says, earnestly. "I don't want you to be hurt." The phrase "you're my friend" wants to come out, but he's not quite bold enough to claim it to her face yet.