Fatima hid the wry curl of her mouth behind her own tea. She didn't think Priya would appreciate her amusement. She was hiding it as much from Circe, because she knew she shouldn't encourage her. Not that Circe was the sort to go too far in her teasing; she'd had years of practice baiting King Mirza, after all.
"But they are!" Circe answered, and she swept a hand toward the window. It had an additional air of melodrama, because she was still holding her cloak. "Do you not see them weep with the force of their longing?"
Fatima snorted, then hurried to busy herself with tidying behind the counter as if she were not eavesdropping.
Circe curled back in on herself, though this time she retrieved her tea, holding it in both hands to provide additional warmth. There was something very nice about holding a mug between both hands. She thought she might like it as much as the actual tea.
"But how are you to gaze longingly with that book to distract you?" she wondered. "That ink is keeping your gaze from sights far lovelier." This assertion collapsed under its own weight as she suddenly yawned, catlike and wide enough to make her jaw crack. "... or not," she admitted, rubbing a hand over her freckled nose with a slow blink. "I will need to send you a letter the next time I am looking particularly dashing," she decided, "that you may pine for me in earnest." She did not for one moment acknowledge the possibility that Priya was not actually smitten with her, sipping at her tea and not even bothering to look smug.
"But they are!" Circe answered, and she swept a hand toward the window. It had an additional air of melodrama, because she was still holding her cloak. "Do you not see them weep with the force of their longing?"
Fatima snorted, then hurried to busy herself with tidying behind the counter as if she were not eavesdropping.
Circe curled back in on herself, though this time she retrieved her tea, holding it in both hands to provide additional warmth. There was something very nice about holding a mug between both hands. She thought she might like it as much as the actual tea.
"But how are you to gaze longingly with that book to distract you?" she wondered. "That ink is keeping your gaze from sights far lovelier." This assertion collapsed under its own weight as she suddenly yawned, catlike and wide enough to make her jaw crack. "... or not," she admitted, rubbing a hand over her freckled nose with a slow blink. "I will need to send you a letter the next time I am looking particularly dashing," she decided, "that you may pine for me in earnest." She did not for one moment acknowledge the possibility that Priya was not actually smitten with her, sipping at her tea and not even bothering to look smug.
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