A long pause lay between them. Vivienne’s mind whirred, attempting to come up with something to say. Like the presumably brawling whores at Lipsweet, the silence was a problem she felt compelled to solve. Did Buck expect an apology? Was Buck going to hit on her? Did she want to go along with either of those things? Vivienne pursed her lips, and she avoided looking at Buck until she could avoid no more. She looked up.
Then she realized Buck didn’t feel that way. Buck was sitting there, solid and confident. He didn’t bother himself with the silence. He let it wash over him, he basked in it, he saw no need to fill it with supportive nothings.
Sometimes, Vivienne wished she was a man.
From Every Inch a King