[ He doesn't bother confirming Alhaitham's comment, or trying to deny it for that matter— they both after all know that it's exactly what he did. Has tried to do a few times today in fact, whether it's because he's trying to play his cards close to his chest or simply because he's stubborn... or maybe a mix of both. Either way, in all his concerns about not playing his hand too soon, he's let several of the key cards slip for Alhaitham's viewing pleasure—
(and at some point this became a poker metaphor instead of a chess metaphor)
—and unbeknownst to him the other man now knows exactly what he's holding. Information asymmetry indeed, and not in the way Kaveh intended... Or, somehow, even suspected.
And so he's really not expecting the way Alhaitham mirrors his movements across the table, telling him with a disturbing amount of confidence— smugness, in fact— about who he wants to fuck, and it's all Kaveh can do to stand there and take it, head reeling with the thoughts that this really, seriously, honestly would have been so much easier if he'd just asked the fucking question.
(But then again, if he had, he wouldn't get to see this look on Alhaitham's face now, would he?) ]
...You are such an asshole.
[ There's no malice in the words, said as they are with a slight smirk of Kaveh's own— or it's meant to be a smirk, even if it's outlined a little too intently with something akin to relief— and he lifts a hand, fingers curling around the cord of Alhaitham's headphones as if they'll somehow give him any leverage to pull the other closer. ]
How long have you known?
[ Because he knows the scribe too well to assume that he took a chance on this without being incredibly, almost doubtlessly, positive that it wouldn't turn into something awkward and uncomfortable between the two of them. ]
no subject
(and at some point this became a poker metaphor instead of a chess metaphor)
—and unbeknownst to him the other man now knows exactly what he's holding. Information asymmetry indeed, and not in the way Kaveh intended... Or, somehow, even suspected.
And so he's really not expecting the way Alhaitham mirrors his movements across the table, telling him with a disturbing amount of confidence— smugness, in fact— about who he wants to fuck, and it's all Kaveh can do to stand there and take it, head reeling with the thoughts that this really, seriously, honestly would have been so much easier if he'd just asked the fucking question.
(But then again, if he had, he wouldn't get to see this look on Alhaitham's face now, would he?) ]
...You are such an asshole.
[ There's no malice in the words, said as they are with a slight smirk of Kaveh's own— or it's meant to be a smirk, even if it's outlined a little too intently with something akin to relief— and he lifts a hand, fingers curling around the cord of Alhaitham's headphones as if they'll somehow give him any leverage to pull the other closer. ]
How long have you known?
[ Because he knows the scribe too well to assume that he took a chance on this without being incredibly, almost doubtlessly, positive that it wouldn't turn into something awkward and uncomfortable between the two of them. ]