[Fred doesn't bother with wiping anything away. They're there, the tears, but only in streaks down cheeks that've begun to flush in the same blotchy way that they always have, and always will. He doesn't bother, because he doesn't care. He's too upset, too angry, and just feeling out of his skin. There's a lot to be said, and he should say something, but he just...can't.]
Think I'll start on a new lot of Whiz-bangs today.
[A general statement, but also something of a warning. Loud and clear. He's not going anywhere today, and he's not seeing anyone either. Their room's not even quite the stronghold he'd like - it's not the same as their room - but at least he can surround himself in their work. That simple statement and a sidewards glance are all Fred can afford George before he's stepping around him back towards the cabin.]
a cup full of nothing for him to indulge - he feels alone;
Think I'll start on a new lot of Whiz-bangs today.
[A general statement, but also something of a warning. Loud and clear. He's not going anywhere today, and he's not seeing anyone either. Their room's not even quite the stronghold he'd like - it's not the same as their room - but at least he can surround himself in their work. That simple statement and a sidewards glance are all Fred can afford George before he's stepping around him back towards the cabin.]