She thinks of a conversation that runs through her mind at least once a day. His hands had frozen, folded together in polite subservience, perhaps the only thing he remembered how to do in the wake of her story. His lips had trembled; he was never able to stop them. When he spoke, he spoke clearly, as if he were asking what she'd like for dessert. [i]”You don’t...fancy her, do you?”[/i]

He still hadn't told her what it was he was really asking about. And she had taken too many chances to try asking again, before he was ready to tell. Silence was one thing. Not knowing, and to hear him apologize for it, far worse.

So she wears a disgusted sneer, ruminating on the impossible probabilities of life and meeting, that her face might not be a lie. No one here needs to see her tap the the bundle at her belt where a tightly wrapped dagger lives. He does not deserve to see her scratch at her neck.

   

He thinks of how long it will take Alexa and Skotos to return from their trip. He will have that long to decide if he will tell her. Hera did not pose the question to him, but it was before her altar that it first came to him. Neither had she told him that there would be a time limit to these deliberations. Would it have made a difference? Perhaps it only would have made him more...

He ought to be happy. His prayers were answered. Someone important to someone important was alive, against all odds. But right now, all he can think of is the strategic likelihood of who might end up in the same room as her, and none of the figures reassured him a bit. If he hadn't  wanted it, then why had he prayed for it?

This is not the question. Or, rather, it is not any of the questions that boil in his heart. So instead, he picks one he does know, and starts with that:

[i]What do I feel about Thellis Thist?[/i]

  

“How does an Eater of the Dead take her prey?” His own card, unstamped, lies plain on the counter for her to see, if she cares to. "If we are already being hunted, then it can't be helped; we must defend ourselves. But I have to look out for all those aboard our ship, not just the two of us. If we are to help, then I'll have to know what will be asked of all of us."

[i]"If[/i] we are already being hunted." Vasilia added. "All we have to trust in is your word. Which, with a few gold and some sincere apologies, might be enough to buy a sandwich." Not that her word valued much higher. But from one fraud to another, the point stood.