[The admission catches him so off guard he doesn't even have the brain space left to worry that the fussing indicates another failure on his part to be presentable. It of course at no point now would occur to him that Kaspar is simply fussing for the sake of it.
In any case, some part of him had anticipated, perhaps "hoped" was a more judicious word, that Kaspar would take his admission gracefully, and accepted it. It was his custom to ignore that part, to worry after the more negative outcome. Just because Kaspar had been kind so far does not mean he does not have limits. Most people do.
But even in his more optimistic scenario he hadn't expected this. He couldn't exactly say he'd heard of such a thing before. He had only actively interacted with others of his type for a few scant years in university, and that was only after in a moment of frustration over marriage proposals he had no interest in but still had to politely consider, he had confessed his feelings to Klint, who had introduced him to an associate familiar with London's Gentleman's Clubs that catered to those tastes. He'd never thought too much about how Klint was aware of such a thing, hadn't allowed himself to, because as far as he was aware at the time, it was one or the other and he had loved the good lady Baskerville as if she'd truly been his sister rather than simply sister-in-law, and the idea of Klint not truly caring for her was too horrible to even consider. But... both, is it?]
I hardly see how I could. It would make you half as strange as me, would it not? [Either way, he's visibly relieved at this, as much as he wasn't expecting it, his shoulders untensing as he runs a hand over his now properly smoothed back hair with a heavy exhale.]
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In any case, some part of him had anticipated, perhaps "hoped" was a more judicious word, that Kaspar would take his admission gracefully, and accepted it. It was his custom to ignore that part, to worry after the more negative outcome. Just because Kaspar had been kind so far does not mean he does not have limits. Most people do.
But even in his more optimistic scenario he hadn't expected this. He couldn't exactly say he'd heard of such a thing before. He had only actively interacted with others of his type for a few scant years in university, and that was only after in a moment of frustration over marriage proposals he had no interest in but still had to politely consider, he had confessed his feelings to Klint, who had introduced him to an associate familiar with London's Gentleman's Clubs that catered to those tastes. He'd never thought too much about how Klint was aware of such a thing, hadn't allowed himself to, because as far as he was aware at the time, it was one or the other and he had loved the good lady Baskerville as if she'd truly been his sister rather than simply sister-in-law, and the idea of Klint not truly caring for her was too horrible to even consider. But... both, is it?]
I hardly see how I could. It would make you half as strange as me, would it not?
[Either way, he's visibly relieved at this, as much as he wasn't expecting it, his shoulders untensing as he runs a hand over his now properly smoothed back hair with a heavy exhale.]