When Sir Lamorak let everyone back into the room, silence filled it as everyone stared at Artie. She tried to keep her expression firm as she felt their gazes roam her until they got to her eyes. She knew she was an ugly crier, she'd been told that all of her childhood. She couldn't help it.
"Sir Artie, did Sir Lamorak do that?" Sir Lancelot had moved towards the desk, standing on her right side as he spoke. His voice was quiet, soft, and Artie didn't like that he was treating her so delicately. She shook her head, swallowing thickly.
"No. I did this all by myself." She muttered, and he sighed. She didn't expect him to place his hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
