You're in good company

Jorah didn't take his eyes off her, even when she glanced nervously at his son, and even when his son tried to ease the burden of awkwardness with his own little speech.

[color=orange]"The technicalities are a place to start,"[/color] he said pulling out a chair, and maintaining his unnerving, shrewd look. [color=orange]"I'd also like to know how you're certain ," [/color]he settled himself in the seat, and lean his hand into his palm, speaking softly with threat, [color=orange]"it even works."[/color]

Maybe it was obvious Jorah didn't see his son as having much of a business sense. He was young, sheltered since he'd become sick. When he was a child, his father had sifted among numerous charlatans on his behalf. He brought these memories with him to this table, served himself with them, and tasted them on his tongue. He had always done so that Tomas would not be burdened by the stress of it all and could focus on any true recovery that could be made. He waved his son to sit, not taking his eyes off the doctor, alert and wary despite his mockingly relaxed body language, all but, his very careful study of her.