"Of course," she said, she knew that, but admired his dedication to his craft even more now than she had when they'd been young.
Gods, when they'd been young; her mother was right, she was a spinster in waiting, and part of her couldn't help but blame the man standing next to her now. He was... everything she could ever want, and she couldn't have him, he'd made that very clear, and so what else was there left to look for?
The breath whooshed from her lungs in a sigh when he barely grazed her back like that, and she couldn't help the way she closed her eyes just lightly, just for a second, remembering his hands. Luckily, she was walking in front of him, and so hopefully he'd missed it. She settled onto a stool next to him, crossing her legs and facing him, not the bar. She nodded, "Yes, Daphne's flat. It was... It was time." She said, settling on the vague explanation unhappily.