I showed him the notes. He listened, then asked two questions, both precise, both useful. He did not interrupt. He didnot crowd me. And all the while, he kept his distance so carefully it became its own kind of pressure.
So I moved closer first.
Not a lot—just enough to stand beside him instead of across from him.
Tobias’s gaze flicked down to the space between us, then back to my face, but he said nothing about it. He simply turned the tablet so we could both see the feeding logs at the same time.
The next day, I found another reason.
Then another.
A question about the morays. A note about the cuttlefish. A possible issue with the secondary pump resonance that turned out to be nothing, though Tobias still followed me down to the service level and listened while I explained why I had thought it might be something.
By the fourth day, I stopped pretending every conversation was urgent.
I came across him in the kitchen just before lunch, standing at the counter with a coffee he had not yet touched, staring out toward the horizon.
“What are we having for lunch today?” I asked, keeping my voice as upbeat and positive as possible.
Tobias turned to face me. It took him a few seconds to answer, and when he did, all that came out was, “Sandwiches and salad.”
It was such a plain answer that I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny, exactly, but because Tobias looked like he’d had to search through an entire database of acceptable responses before landing on it. His coffee remained untouched beside him, one hand resting near the mug without quite holding it, and his attention had narrowed on me with the familiar intensity I’d been trying not to miss.
“That sounds nice,” I said.
His gaze remained on my face. “Ben confirmed there are no mushrooms, carrots, turkey, fish, olives, fried ingredients, or Vegemite.”
“Wow,” I said, fighting a smile. “That’s pretty specific.”
“It is a very specific exclusion list.”
“Did you write it down?”
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation.
I shouldn’t have found that charming.
I really, really shouldn’t have.
But there was something about the seriousness with which Tobias treated even the smallest pieces of information I gave him that felt so oddly sweet.
“Well,” I said, leaning one hip against the opposite side of the island, “thank you for protecting me from Vegemite.”
“You dislike it.”
“I’ve actually never tried it.”
“You requested not to.”
“Right, but there’s a difference between disliking something and preemptively avoiding it. I think technically you should be encouraging me to try it.”
His brows drew together. “Why?”
“Well the argument would be that how could I truly know whether I disliked it or not if I’ve never tried it.”
“Do you want to know that information?”
