As though he had trained her like Pavlov’s dog, Mercy’s stomach immediately growled its displeasure at the food being on the other side of the door and not inside her. Her hand lingered on the doorknob for another second as she took a deep breath, giving herself strength, trying to locate the bitch inside that had protected her so well over the years. She was too drained to find much more than a frown and it was only when she was sure that, at the very least, she wouldn’t cry that she finally opened the door.
“Bole,” she greeted calmly, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment, just watching him. She couldn’t tell whether he was there for her, because of what had happened that day, or if he was simply unaware and had dropped in on her for the same reasons he usually did. The fact that she couldn’t tell was what helped her finally stop eyeing him suspiciously and simply take her place at the table like she usually did. There was no way he didn’t know, he wasn’t ignorant, but she wasn’t entirely sure he would care enough to be dropping by for more than just a badly-timed social visit. As long as she acted normal, it should be fine, right?
“At some point, you’re going to need more than just a platter full of food to get in here,” she said with a bit of her usual bite. “Just a warning.”