He's been leaning on the counter watching Laertes work -- he likes that too, the care with which Laertes fits the dough to the tray, brushes the syrup on, keeps the layers of pistachios even. Laertes is studious and intentional, for all he says he needs patience; it's one of the things Sagramore likes about him. Sometimes that intentionality trips him up like a briar tangle underfoot and Sagramore can see he's trying too hard to make things perfect, but then there are moments like this, when he's just focused on his work.

He is, Sagramore thinks, beautiful like a tapestry, subtle but full of intricacy.

"No, I'm indolent," he says lightly. "How long does it take?"