Unlike Peridot, Lambert doesn't need to be bashed over the head to take a hint (sometimes). He looks at her, then back at Childermass a little longer, visibly taking the time to think the question over before he answers.
And all at once, Lambert decides he's tired. Tired of being quiet about it, tired of having it wrested out for other people to gawk at without either of them getting a say about it. For once, he's got a chance to actually decide who gets to know and when, and Peridot deserves better than an evasion.
"Yeah," he says finally, simply, exhaling, and meeting Peridot's eyes as steadily as he can. "We're--"
And then he runs into another problem, because for as much as they've had, they've also never talked about what they have. More than sex, that much is obvious. Together? Lovers? Sworn to each other? Even in his head, he cringes away at all of them, if only because he imagines Childermass would laugh at every one he chose. The longer the pause drags on, the deeper the flush on his cheeks gets, until the silence becomes unbearable.
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And all at once, Lambert decides he's tired. Tired of being quiet about it, tired of having it wrested out for other people to gawk at without either of them getting a say about it. For once, he's got a chance to actually decide who gets to know and when, and Peridot deserves better than an evasion.
"Yeah," he says finally, simply, exhaling, and meeting Peridot's eyes as steadily as he can. "We're--"
And then he runs into another problem, because for as much as they've had, they've also never talked about what they have. More than sex, that much is obvious. Together? Lovers? Sworn to each other? Even in his head, he cringes away at all of them, if only because he imagines Childermass would laugh at every one he chose. The longer the pause drags on, the deeper the flush on his cheeks gets, until the silence becomes unbearable.
"Fucking," Lambert blurts, finally. "We're fucking."