[ There's a blink as the cigarette lands in his palm, a few milliseconds of staring at it before John's eyes move up to Sherlock's face. This had been a possibility, but not what John had expected. For a moment, the former soldier's expression is quite open with shock. The detective is playing his part, looking well and truly miffed at him for being denied the pacifier. John's role is to play a man who expected this outcome all along, because it was the right thing to do, but it's just not working out. He's touched.
His fingers fumble slightly replacing the cigarettes in their pack, and he drops his eyes awkwardly to pay attention to what the hell he's doing. His throat feels thick, so he clears it, softly. Instinct to not make a scene very quickly makes him move away from the window, though not... without reaching out to brush a hand across the other man's shoulder as he passes. ]
no subject
His fingers fumble slightly replacing the cigarettes in their pack, and he drops his eyes awkwardly to pay attention to what the hell he's doing. His throat feels thick, so he clears it, softly. Instinct to not make a scene very quickly makes him move away from the window, though not... without reaching out to brush a hand across the other man's shoulder as he passes. ]
Dinner?