Page 106 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

"Very little," he admitted without arrogance, simply stating a fact. "Observation is both natural inclination and trained skill."

I studied him over the rim of my mug, taking in the precise way he held his cup, the careful attention he seemed to give to even this simple act of drinking tea. "What else do you observe about me right now?"

Theo's eyes met mine, analytical yet somehow warm behind his glasses. "Physical fatigue indicated by the slight slump of your shoulders, but mental alertness suggested by your dilated pupils and rapid eye movements. You're wearing a robe but haven't fully secured it—indicating you left your room impulsively rather than with deliberation." His gaze dropped briefly to my hands. "You've been creating arrangements today—there's a small stain from eucalyptus oil on your right index finger. And despite your exhaustion, you're still processing the events of the day—evident in how you periodically touch your lips, likely recalling physical interactions with Gabriel and Lucas."

Heat rushed to my cheeks at his accurate assessment, especially the last observation. I hadn't even realized I'd been touching my lips. "That's... impressive.”

The corner of Theo's mouth lifted in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “I am glad you think so.”

"Though many find it unsettling," he added, adjusting his glasses in that precise way of his. "Being observed so thoroughly."

I considered this as I took another sip of tea, the warmth spreading through my chest. "I don't mind. With you, it feels like... understanding, not judgment."

Something flickered in Theo's eyes—surprise, perhaps, or appreciation. "That's an unusually perceptive observation."

"I observe things too," I said with a small smile. "Not as scientifically as you, maybe, but I notice patterns. The way someone's eyes change when they're truly listening. How different people express care in different ways." I paused, studying him. "You show it through attention. Through seeing all the details others miss."

Theo was quiet for a moment, his analytical mind seemingly processing my words. "Most people don't recognize that aspect of observation," he said finally. "They focus on the data collection aspect, not the underlying motivation." He looked down at his tea, his long fingers wrapped around the mug. "Your perception is... refreshing."

I felt warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the tea. "Maybe it's because I spend so much time observing tiny details too—the subtle differences in petal shapes, how certain flowers complement each other, the way light affects color. Different field, same attentiveness."

Theo's eyes met mine, something softening in his analytical gaze. "The principle is similar," he agreed. "Recognizing patterns others overlook."

We fell into comfortable silence again, sipping our tea. The house was quiet around us, the only sounds the occasional settling of the old building and our own breathing. There was something intimate about sharing this peaceful moment in the darkened kitchen, away from the pressures of the case and the complicated dynamics between all of us. With Theo, there was no expectation of conversation or performance—just quiet companionship that somehow eased the anxiety that had been keeping me awake.

"Your heartrate has decreased by approximately twelve beats per minute since we began talking," Theo observed, his voice soft in the stillness. "The tea appears to be having its intended effect."

I smiled into my mug. "It's not just the tea. It's the company."

Theo tilted his head slightly, studying me with that careful attention that made me feel simultaneously exposed and understood. "My company is not usually described as calming. 'Intense' and 'overwhelming' are more common descriptors."

"I find it grounding," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty. "The way you see everything so clearly, so precisely—it makes the chaos feel more manageable somehow."

Something flickered in Theo's expression—surprise, perhaps, or something warmer. "That's... not a perspective I've encountered before." His analytical gaze softened slightly as it held mine. "I'm glad you find it beneficial rather than intimidating."

I set my mug down, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting, our knees nearly touching on the adjacent stools. The kitchen felt smaller somehow, more intimate in the dim light. "Theo," I said softly, not entirely sure what I wanted to say next.

He set his own mug down, his full attention on me now. "Yes?"

"Today with Lucas and Gabriel..." I began, then paused, uncertain how to continue.

"You don't owe me an explanation," Theo said, his voice gentle despite his usual precision. "What happens between you and the others is your choice."

"I know," I said quickly. "That's not--what I meant." I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "I just wanted to make sure you understand that it doesn't mean I'm not... interested in you too."

Theo's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, that analytical mind of his clearly processing my words. "You're concerned about perceived hierarchies or preferences within our unusual dynamic," he observed, his voice carefully neutral though I detected a hint of something warmer underneath.

"Yes," I admitted, grateful for his ability to articulate what I'd been struggling to express. "I don't want you to think that because things happened with them first, that somehow means..."

"That your interest in me is lesser?" Theo finished when I trailed off.

I nodded, suddenly feeling shy despite the intimacy we'd shared earlier in the kitchen. "Exactly."

Theo adjusted his glasses, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as self-soothing rather than a nervous habit. "I've observed enough to understand that emotional and physical connections don't follow linear progressions or hierarchies," he said, his analytical tone somehow making the sentiment more meaningful. "You've been through significant trauma, both recently and in your past. Your process of connection and trust will naturally follow an organic pattern rather than an orderly sequence."

His understanding, so precise yet so compassionate, made my throat tighten with emotion. "You're remarkable, you know that?" I said softly.

Theo looked momentarily startled by the compliment, as if he wasn't accustomed to such direct appreciation. "I simply observe what others often overlook."

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