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“Jealous?” Rhin was startled. Of course he was, what a stupidly suspicious question!
“Wait, who are you exactly? I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
The artless plant’s thin eyes glinted with a self-importance that made Tora shrink back into his seat. Please don’t say something weird or stu—
“They call me… John Smith.”
YOU’RE A SYLVARI, Tora thought with the deepest frustration, AT LEAST CHOOSE A FAKE SYLVARI NAME!
“And your relation to Bandi…?” Rhin asked.
At the question, FPS suddenly turned coy. “Oh well, y’know. Proper courtship takes time you see.”
Two windows. He was going to throw this plant through two windows. Maybe punt him off a cliff for good measure.
“Ah yes, young love. I understand.” Rhin nodded knowingly, and Tora, quick to latch onto the story John Smith was spinning, smiled, played shy, tried his damndest to hide the murder in his eyes.
“Well, John Smith, it’s funny you should ask,” Rhin continued. “I should think most folks were envious of her to some capacity, especially for her baking skills but… few of us truly understood her genius with the engine. And some of us beyond that.”
“Beyond that?” Tora repeated, curious. That sounded promising.
“Oh well, Bolli and I go way back, along with our colleague—say, what was the names of her dogs again?”
This caught Tora off guard.
“Her dogs…?”
“Yes, yes, Bolli’s pups. I remember they had just the cutest names, I just can’t quite recall…”
“Oh you should know that!” FPS again. ‘Helpful’ again.
“Right, yeah,” Tora conceded, reluctantly. I should’ve come alone.
“Since you walked them and all.”
“Yes, thank you, Dear, I know.”
The two watched him expectantly.
Damn it! Why are we talking about these dogs again?!
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