[ Charles listens with a waiting alertness, his stare the same sort of tugging inquiry as his power -- not confrontational and needling, but a gravitational pull, a well of receptiveness; inward, not outward. His hands knit together, and when there's a pause in conversation, his gaze drops to evaluate his beer.
Raises, again. ]
Outcome being?
[ He feels like it might be condescending to ask on which side Severus stood. He can assume, but only if he's being simplistic, and that's bitten him before. So he waits, and stops trying to mentally squint through the silencing fog that clouds his friend's mind. ]
no subject
Raises, again. ]
Outcome being?
[ He feels like it might be condescending to ask on which side Severus stood. He can assume, but only if he's being simplistic, and that's bitten him before. So he waits, and stops trying to mentally squint through the silencing fog that clouds his friend's mind. ]