pyr min solemnly swears he is up to no good (twinclaws) wrote in emillion, |
But she was already filling a plate with small, bite-size tidbits, enough to get her through at least half an hour, she was certain. And at the very least, she thought (perhaps naively) that no one would think to gossip about her speaking with a guildmate who was half a foot shorter, too young to partake of the champagne, and clearly utterly disinterested in her (it was, in the end, one of the things she found comforting about his friendship). Pyr shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d feel kinda awkward if I went up to her and tell her that. She’s like…” He waved a hand in the air as if trying to grasp the right word, but came up with nothing. “Anyway, I’m a squire and I’m not a noble, and I’m sure other people will tell her it was good, so it’s okay.” How stupid would he look if he walked up to the hostess, a boy squirming inside his suit approaching the woman who was at the center of everyone’s attention? She had hired him for a job once, through Juliette, and that was the extent of their acquaintance, and if he tried to talk to her he had a feeling he’d forget how to string words together. Unconsciously, he reached up to tug at his necktie. On this matter, however, Juliette could understand him perfectly. Even after years of acquaintance with the Countess -- and the fairly recent shift to being her ward -- Juliette often felt awed by her. She still selected her words carefully, preparing to be seen and not heard whenever circumstances allowed. And so she offered Pyr a small, understanding smile and said, “She… has this effect on many people.” Why, even Alys’ groom was even more nervous than usual in her presence (Juliette was practically tranquil in comparison). “Right.” Pyr took a spring roll and popped it into his mouth, tried to come up with a way to continue the conversation that wasn’t you look pretty too. Audrey crossed his field of vision then, and provided the necessary inspiration. “So, uh, your sister. I bet she’s excited. She seems very…” civil “cheery.” “Yes,” Juliette said, seizing this topic even if her words were not entirely true. “I believe she is… anxious to begin her own life.” The wedding, Juliette had come to understand, was a means to an end. “I hope that everything goes… smoothly for her.” A slight crease appeared between Pyr’s brows. There was that hesitance again, as when they’d discussed the engagement gift on the network. “You don’t think it will?” he asked. “I mean, her groom looks kind of a nervous wreck, but I suppose you can’t blame him if he’s going to be married,” to Audrey “soon.” “Nothing can be fully certain,” Juliette sad, an evasive half-answer at best. “I only want the best for her. And I am certain that Lord Norwood” -- she ought call him Basil, but would she ever manage it? -- “is anxious in his own way about the proceedings.” And about other things, she had to expect, though she didn’t know what those things could be. She nibbled on a cracker prettily arranged with sesame and a sliver of raw tuna, her expression thoughtful, perhaps a bit worried. She realized she did not resemble the overjoyed sister of the bride (if anything, the other bridesmaids seemed to be filling this role with much greater ease), but she had never been a very good actress unless it came to pretending neutrality. And even then… He hovered for a moment between humoring her and pushing the issue. His real options were either push the issue or find something else to talk about, and so he said, “That’s not really an answer, though.” As the words left his mouth he wondered if he was pushing too far―and so he grabbed two spring rolls and handed one to her. “Try these, they’re really good.” |