suitsahero

Y'tajha's brows lift in response to the hint of red splashed across his cheeks, and not for the first time there's a question there, something wondering that gets pushed aside in favor of yet another stern internal reminder of their camaraderie. More than that too is the gratitude for his understanding that even amid their flirtatious breakfast-time banter, her words come from a place of sincerity. "The honor would be mine," she responds, and the words still come from a place of propriety, but the smile she offers him is one that speaks of something past that.

And so it's like this that, after dinner, Y'tajha finds herself alone with Haurchefant in the warmth of the intercessory, the thought of his chambers rejected on account of the idea being too close to the one she's had many times before. Her hands are cupped around another hot mug, and the mild expression on her face doesn't betray how strange it feels for her, the room being emptied of all others save the two of them.

She smiles, an attempt to disperse whatever strange tension floats between them, a playful tilt to her head. "Is this where you swear me to secrecy on the method of your trade?"

Not that ignoring whispered rumors can really be considered a trade, but...