Emma shrugged. "Acquaintances," she said, thinking of the people she'd met. Laurel and "Jane Bond" (and her slightly scary man-friend)... and... Well, maybe one friend. Maybe.
"How long ago was 'the start'?' Emma asked, deftly (maybe) turning the conversation away from herself. It wasn't even intentional. When you grew up in the Frost house, with the Frost parents, though, you learned to keep yourself out of the limelight. Unless you'd gotten an A++ in Latin or first place in an important recital, that was.
This wasn't quite an A++ in Latin moment.
"And what have you learned? If that's okay to ask," she added after a second or two. She stared at the flower, too. It was something like a rose, but Emma had the feeling it would have been worth fifty times its weight in gold back home. There was something about the shading, the delicate blend of pink and red hues in the petals...