The little dining room turned workshop smelled like leather and wood, though one of the people inside it was too focused on the subtle spice wafting from her beloved. It was a nice smell, but it wasn't the girl's natural one… which gave a certain Goltbred the idea of what sort of food a certain Yecine had brought for them to enjoy.
"What exactly do you say about me?"
Qatrand mumbled after they both remained quiet for a while. Elua, still standing on the furniture like she hadn't been raised in an affluent or respectful family, grabbed the tall girl's wrist and pulled her grip away.
"Well, it's not so much about the words. It's about how they are used."
The heiress rose further up while grabbing and pulling the blonde's face to her chest, stroking her hair in the way the swordswoman often did to her.
"I spoke about that woman for a fraction of a minute. I regularly speak your name and praise you for dozens at a time."
