[ Dick doesn’t bristle or grit his jaw or lean away from her touch. The ball and socket of his shoulder eases lax after an initial lock of tension; he swallows again, and nudges the bite of pie he just so carefully cut away from the rest of the slice without taking it.
He doesn’t look up to follow Athessa’s pointed finger skywards until it’s occurred to him to set the knife carefully down. ]
What happened to Mythal?
[ Seems like she’s really sleeping on the job these days. ]
no subject
He doesn’t look up to follow Athessa’s pointed finger skywards until it’s occurred to him to set the knife carefully down. ]
What happened to Mythal?
[ Seems like she’s really sleeping on the job these days. ]