…
Once Brunilda saw Mattheus to the car that Vincent drove and parked about two blocks away from the roof they had been talking at, she finally relaxed her nonchalant act and sighed.
The kid presented a mostly confident front and, in a way it was true.
But she could read the hearts of basically anything quasi-sentient. He couldn't hide the internal insecurities and mood swings from her senses.
It was a delicate time though and all Brunilda could do was pretend to be normal and be a steady harbor for Mattheus. The year mark was coming up, meaning it was more than enough time for the fallout to hit—she figured the delay was only because of how he scrambled to keep up and survive.
The trip to Basilea was the trigger.
Mattheus had been wound up tight from stress and defensiveness, having lived a life of a spy for half a year with only a cat knowing his secrets.
