LISA
"You've gotten fat," Elverly greets me, in that traditionally hateful way of hers.
Does the fact that I missed her toxic tongue mark me as abnormal? Probably. But I hug her anyway, smiling when her body doesn't tense, even as she grumbles at me for touching her without permission.
The rest of the night with Kellan was nothing but awkward silence. Being away from him is a blessing right now. I just keep thinking about how he smelled—yeah. No. Not thinking about that."I'll ask next time. How have you been?"
Elverly's snort could mean anything really, but I choose to interpret it as I've missed you too.
Maybe I'm psychotic. Or delusional. But I'm pretty sure that's what she means.
"Their food is terrible," she mutters. "Not a cook among them."
"They are refugees from war," says the Grand Sage, sounding rather resigned. "It isn't as though they would gather the kitchen before escaping."
