"Now we just need a referee…" Abrial's dark, shining eyes scanned around for anyone who was not busy in conversation. Her eyes fell on Finley, who was already setting down her chopsticks with delicate pale fingers.
"I will referee," Finley announced calmly before Abrial could say anything. She reached behind herself, plucked up a few strands of grass peeking up through the bamboo floor mats, and twisted them together.
"What're you doing?" Abrial leaned over the table curiously, trying to get a glimpse of Finley's dexterous slender fingers twirling the green strands. "Just playing with grass? Is that a referee thing?"
Finley closed her palms over the braided strands, then opened them. Like a pearl resting in the chest of an oyster, sitting nonchalantly between her palms now was a short white candle one third of a standard candle's length, with a little green wick.
