Carlisle takes the key with trembling hands, and their fingers touch, just briefly - incidental contact, less than half a second, nothing unusual - so it strikes Qubit, distantly, as strange that he even noticed it. But the thought slips from his awareness (or, perhaps, is pushed) as quietly as it arrived.
He doesn't rush Carlisle, but follows when he does enter, a couple steps behind him. He's already familiar with the foyer, of course, having built it. But he can't help noticing a few small differences, now, drawn directly from Carlisle's recollections. A cobweb here, an extra portrait there, and... something else? Something not quite so tangible...
Before he can put his finger on it, Carlisle's voice draws his attention back. As ever, Qubit's a glutton for praise; his back straightens as he grasps his coat lapels, preening in spite of himself. Why, yes, thank you, he is incredible - and hearing it from Carlisle, in particular, feels like really believing it again - but that's beside the point.
"Well, of course. I don't know anyone else who'd appreciate a one-to-one replica of your house," he quips. He's quick to follow up with something more sincere, though, beaming fondly. "Happy Holidays, Carlisle."
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Carlisle takes the key with trembling hands, and their fingers touch, just briefly - incidental contact, less than half a second, nothing unusual - so it strikes Qubit, distantly, as strange that he even noticed it. But the thought slips from his awareness (or, perhaps, is pushed) as quietly as it arrived.
He doesn't rush Carlisle, but follows when he does enter, a couple steps behind him. He's already familiar with the foyer, of course, having built it. But he can't help noticing a few small differences, now, drawn directly from Carlisle's recollections. A cobweb here, an extra portrait there, and... something else? Something not quite so tangible...
Before he can put his finger on it, Carlisle's voice draws his attention back. As ever, Qubit's a glutton for praise; his back straightens as he grasps his coat lapels, preening in spite of himself. Why, yes, thank you, he is incredible - and hearing it from Carlisle, in particular, feels like really believing it again - but that's beside the point.
"Well, of course. I don't know anyone else who'd appreciate a one-to-one replica of your house," he quips. He's quick to follow up with something more sincere, though, beaming fondly. "Happy Holidays, Carlisle."