[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180729/2fbb5311a75998e59e501513aa9e6c2c.png[/img][/center] [color=a187be][i]Ashkevron Residence in Askavi[/i][/color] Fatima smiled indulgently. While she had been repressing much of her psychic scent, she hadn't anticipated he would ask her such a question. Wasn't it obvious? She leaned forward, ready to reply to him but the sudden storm of displeasure rolled over her and she winced. Slowly she stood and turned to face the door, hands folded in front of her and raised her chin. She wore an expression of kind boredom and then the door opened. The chill rolled over her and tapped danced down her spine. It took every ounce of self-control to not visibly shiver but Fatima knew that Faeril could smell it on her. [b]"Of course, I would be happy to do so. There is some tea on the stove for you." [/b] She looked toward Mikhail, offered a small smile and a wink, before sweeping toward the kitchen door. On a distaff thread, she said, [i]"He's one of mine. Please be kind. He needs help."[/i] With that, she swept from the room and approached the door. Outside of the room, she began to feel the apprehension of having to talk to Faeril later. More like get scolded by her with ice and evil stared and it would be so very, very boring. Opening the door she came face to face with the emotion that had been sprouting up since the first visit last night. [i]Mine.[/i] She stared blankly up at the pale-haired man before a warm smile crept over her lips. This was really getting out of hand. How thrilling! [b]"How can I help you?"[/b]