Iris's eyes were piercing, seeing past the physical imposingness to the machinery beneath. "You have not stopped since I have known you."
"Even yesterday, standing in front of a coffin, you were doing something with your hands the entire time."
"Small, constant movements. Like you were working through a problem, solving a puzzle, even while you were grieving with me."
Rex turned his head to study Iris, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. Most people saw the surface, the calculated composure, and the unshakable focus, but few had the acuity to notice the restless machinery of his mind working beneath the skin.
"I was," he admitted, his voice dropping to a gravelly register. "And I won't pretend otherwise."
"That doesn't mean the grief wasn't real... It just means I don't know how to hold one truth without also holding three others."
"My mind doesn't know how to switch off the calculus of survival just because my heart is breaking."
