She shook out of her reverie. "We could still have lobsters. I didn't say our palate should match our dress styles."
"And maybe we could buy some new clothes while at it," Zavian pulled at the old cotton shirt under the hood, something Neera had insisted he wore and he grumbled all through as he put it on. Neera had seen a peek of the Zavian she had known long ago when he was young and free from heavy responsibilities and without the taint of life's troubles.
"No, stick to the plan," Neera said.
"Neera, if you wanted to play costume, I could have simply asked for a masquerade ball to be arranged," Zavian said.
"If dressing as commoners is your definition of a masquerade ball, then this world is a masquerade ball."
Zavian gave a small smile. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh?" Neera moved up to him. "Pray tell. What is it you meant?"
