[The larger part of Horatio's immediate unthinking movement is simply automatic. Direct requests will always feel like demands, somewhere at the edge of his mind, when spoken with enough certainty. Perhaps, if he's long enough away, that impulse will begin to relax, but for now it moves his fingers to the dial uncritically.
The other, smaller part is the wonderful prickling pride of usefulness. There had been quite the (upsettingly public) trial-and-error period for learning how to handle the simple task of turning these devices "up" or "down," and it just feels good to have the competence to do so smartly without a lot of fumbling.
Of course, the problem with turning the volume up is that it redirects Horatio's attention to the (apparently quite interesting) words. And the words--
Well. He'll just be turning the broadcast right back down again as the colour begins rushing from his ears down into his cheeks.]
no subject
The other, smaller part is the wonderful prickling pride of usefulness. There had been quite the (upsettingly public) trial-and-error period for learning how to handle the simple task of turning these devices "up" or "down," and it just feels good to have the competence to do so smartly without a lot of fumbling.
Of course, the problem with turning the volume up is that it redirects Horatio's attention to the (apparently quite interesting) words. And the words--
Well. He'll just be turning the broadcast right back down again as the colour begins rushing from his ears down into his cheeks.]