The trouble with falling in love was- well, in this case, it was that the man who had so suddenly captured her heart just wasn't available.
It wouldn't be the first time she and her sister had fallen for the same man. They could get a little competitive, Love and Tragedy, and battling for the same artistic heart and mind had sustained them through many a dark time. There had been one, in Chicago in the 1930s, who had been so overwhelmed with creativity and passion that he had run himself off a balcony, believing that Love had given him literal wings.
How tragic.
Erato knew that right now, though, was a bad time to try to invoke that competitive edge of old. With her sister growing heavy with child, she seemed more vulnerable, and the way she spoke of Alan-a-Dale was with nothing less than absolutely glowing terms. Erato felt envious, and kept her heart to herself.
As they left, she wander over to the bar, hopping up on a bar stool and propping her chin on her hands.
"Oh! Much! You're back!" she exclaimed, realising for the first time that her lovely friend had returned to his usual friendly position behind the bar. "How lovely to see you, sweetheart!"