Portrait of Insanities

[Para]

Erunei gathered a sketchpad, two each of medium and hard pencils, a stick of charcoal, and her reluctantly-gained shoes, and slipped out of her room and the Candidate building, pausing to slip the shoes on just before exiting the door. She closed it behind her, leaning against the door for a moment with her eyes closed and head tilted back, sighing as she relaxed far more than she had since the simourv found her days ago. What had happened, her reasons for coming, were all blurred beyond any real sense; lost in too many people and things to do, too much talking and interaction, too little time and too strange expectations. This--wasn’t her life; there was nothing like her life left in this; she had to get her life back.

Erunei moved away from the door, stepping cautiously through the layer of snow on the ground toward the gardens. The air was cold, wrapping around her like stiff, cool cloth, and the snow’s chill was already seeping through the thin shoes, but it wasn’t so cold that she wouldn’t be able to draw for a while before her hands got stiff. The full moon and snow combined to make the night more than bright enough to see, but very strange; it looked as dreamlike as the last several days had felt. This dream though Erunei could deal with; she could catch it and put it on the page, and hopefully make sense of both dreams that way.

She reached the gardens, wandering a little before finding a rock large enough to sit on, and settled, brushing most of the snow off before sitting down, tucking the pencils and charcoal behind her ears and in folds of her clothes, with the sketchpad on her lap. She picked a bush, dead and leafless, but with a thin icing of snow and began drawing it, working from the major details to the smallest ones, before quickly scrawling in the largest shadows and night around it.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Normally M'rao would have been sleeping about this time, curled up in the soft blankets of her bed. She'd been on watch in Chydyn, and had only returned back a couple of hours ago. She didn't miss the tall trees or the moonlit foliage of her former home; Seiliph didn't either. The green had commented that she would much rather look at the stone walls of the Eyrie, her home, than the uniformly white and brown canopy of the Chydyn forests. Both halves of the pair were convinced that their duty was terribly boring: although it wasn't hard to stay awake, there had been no excitement whatsoever in the few watches they'd already taken. Both were rapidly getting used to the idea of spending long hours staring at the ground waiting for koxi or other disasters, however.

Now, though, in the middle of the night, M'rao wasn't bored. Although it was cold, it wasn't enough so to quell the desire to wander. And wander she did, striding with quick, light steps through the gardens, reveling in the feel of the crisp air on her face, of the silver-lit ground she moved over. Seiliph had elected not to come along, remaining in their eyling instead in the effort to get some sleep. Indeed, when the rider reached out to touch her bonded's mind, the green was fast asleep, dreaming her violent dreams. Feeling her there, at the edge of her consciousness, made M'rao's lips twitch in what might have been a smile.

The expression transformed into a true smile - as true as M'rao's ever got - as she noticed someone a distance ahead of her, sitting on a rock. Evidently she was drawing something, but that was of less interest to the greenrider than the fact that there was potential amusement in human form. And straight ahead of her, no less. She hungered to use one of the many masks she'd had, the ones she loved to put on and take off again as soon as she was no longer with other people. She longed to weave her beautiful lies and watch as someone unwittingly believed them.

Driven by these old, old urges, M'rao changed course slightly and headed for the girl on the rock. Something glittered in her icy grey eyes and a cold smile decorated her pale face. Oh, this would be fun.

Ghosting up behind the girl on the rock - who, she could now see, was drawing a bush - the greenrider paused, standing just behind her shoulder. "Pretty," she murmured, eyes flicking to the drawing. Drawings didn't fascinate her overmuch, but her gaze followed the lines, gauged the tonal values before she lost interest. Already her bright mind had deciphered that there was nothing hidden in the picture, nothing she needed to find or analyze, and that bored her. She starved for something to keep her mind occupied for hours - and the only things that had ever succeeded in that were human beings. And look, here she'd found one, and she sank her sharp claws into the opportunity with a cold, savage glee: the glee a cat felt when it found a helpless mouse, cornered where it couldn't get away. With any luck, she'd soon have this particular mouse in her claws, enthralled by her lies.

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[Para]

Erunei had just gotten the trance-like state she tended to drift into when working when a voice broke through her thoughts. Liomi.... She hissed mentally as her shoulders tightened and her hand slowed down. The middle of the night, outside, in winter, and someone still feels obligated to bother me. I’m perfectly allowed to be here! She stopped thinking before her brain could add ‘right?’ to the end of the thought, slipping into her professional mood as well as she could. “I’m glad you like it.” She forced her shoulders to relax as much as she could make them, tucked the charcoal back into a fold of cloth large enough to hold it as long as she didn’t move much, and turned to the person who’d spoken.

A woman, she could see that much, though not really anything more. “What brought you out here?” When I want to be alone and you ought to be asleep? And was that honestly the best I could come up with to say? Erunei kept her tone and expression neutral; as much as she wanted to glare until the woman went away, the woman hadn’t technically done anything wrong, and she’d taken too long forcing herself to learn politeness to drop it completely. Besides, she’d rather not offend anyone in the Eyrie before she figured out who was where in the power structure. Or if I'm even staying.

[‡§åkørü‡]

M'rao was no dullard. She noted the way the girl's shoulders tensed, noted the slowing of her hand as she drew. Hiding a smile at the success she'd already achieved, the greenrider merely nodded. A courtesy, nothing more. She'd known artists back in Chydyn, and had long ago figured out that 'I'm glad you like it' was meant either to invite more praise, or to direct the conversation elsewhere.

In this case, it seemed to represent the latter option. Watching with predatory eyes as the charcoal was tucked away, the redhead dropped her gaze to meet the other girl's. Well practiced in not expression her true feelings, she nonetheless felt herself give a wicked internal grin. What did bring her out here? Well, the desire to impart some lies, for one thing. For another... well, now that she was graduated, she wouldn't really mind some company. She still had plans to get with T'ia... but she'd never felt bound by morals in this sort of manner. And from what she could see in the moonlight, this girl wasn't unattractive. That was good enough for her.

"Just walking," she answered with a small, carefully engineered smile. The one thing she couldn't get rid of was the ice in her expression, but it was dark enough, even with the full moon, that the other probably couldn't see it. "I do that sometimes, when I can't sleep. Or when I don't want to." She shrugged, a half-hearted little gesture meant only to further her own purposes.

Knowing that flattery is a snake's best venom, M'rao tilted her head slightly, nodding at the sketchpad on the other young woman's lap. "You're good. How long have you been drawing?" She didn't really care, of course. M'rao wasn't the kind of person who cared about anyone but herself. But if it helped make the other girl trust her, develop a bit of liking for her, maybe... well then, it was worth bothering herself with these stupid, inconvenient little courtesies. "I've never been able to draw a thing." True enough, but she could manufacture some splendid lies on nothing more than a whim. That was what she wanted to do now - it was almost like an addiction, this compulsion to lie, and she loved everything about it. All addicts did, she supposed, until they went down in flames.

But she wasn't going down, in flames or otherwise, now was she?

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[Para]

Erunei was still far from pleased with the woman’s presence, but as long as she was being friendly, Erunei had no plausible reason not to be polite as well. ‘I don’t like being bothered’ was generally not considered a justifiable explanation for calling someone a nuisance and telling them to get lost. Unless they were sisters, in which case an explanation wasn’t needed, but Erunei had never really been inclined to tell her sister to leave anyway. So Erunei relaxed as much as she could--she wasn’t being told she’d done something wrong, at least, and nothing in the woman’s behavior said she might be holding back such a comment for later--and tried to guide her expression into something slightly more pleasant.

If the flattery--and it was flattery, sincerely meant or not--had been about anything other than Erunei’s artwork, she would have been sincerely skeptical of it. She knew she was a good artist, though, and even if this sketch wasn’t anything like her best work--sketches generally weren’t--it was better than any non-artist she’d seen would be capable of. “I’ve been drawing as long as I can remember, but I really started when I was nine or ten.” Originally just as an excuse to avoid people without someone realizing it was because of the people, but no one ever asked that. “I think most artists are like that, starting before they can remember.”

She manages a slight, if a bit more superior and amused than it should be, smile at the woman’s admission of being unable to draw. She’d heard that before; just about every time anyone tried to talk to her; it was either that or admitting that they were an artist too, or a very talented amateur. Erunei preferred the non-artists; they never tried to tell her to correct what wasn’t wrong, and on the occasion one started to, they’d only ask about it, and shut up quickly once Erunei told them otherwise. “I was horrible when I started, everyone is really. Practice, and all that, really the only thing anyone can be born with that I’ve noticed is correct vision and a tolerance to paint fumes.”

[‡§åkørü‡]

M'rao was pleased that she hadn't been told to leave yet, although she'd been half-expecting it. People didn't tense up and then force themselves to relax if they were happy to see you. Perversely, that gave her a little flicker of pleasure. She'd always loved being where she wasn't wanted - except, of course, when it was to her advantage to be liked and not hated. For now she was in a mixed mood, unable to decide if she wanted affection or distrust from this girl. So she settled for affection; it was easy enough to wear a persona other people liked - and besides, she supposed she wasn't in the mood to really destroy anyone's minds. Not at the moment, anyway.

"It shows," she complimented, warming her voice to the appropriate level. The greenrider knew perfectly well how sick it was to delight in these little lies, the manipulations that seemed to make up more of her personality than her actual personality did. She didn't care. "I think you're right. I've known a few and they all said the same," she commented with a soft laugh. At last, a truth: the other artists she'd known had indeed said that they'd drawn ever since they could remember. M'rao also didn't lie when she said she couldn't draw. Her mind, although highly intelligent, wasn't creative in that way. She couldn't replicate the lines of a real object and translate them onto a page, couldn't invent fanciful pictures. What she could do was lie, and at that she was a professional.

Wasn't that the truth, though? The artist's explanation about practice made a ripple of amusement pass through the greenrider. Practice made perfect in anything. If you were willing to work hard enough, you could become good. It didn't matter whether it was art, or blacksmithing, or lying: if you worked, you'd eventually get better. "Horrible is a pretty good word for my abilities," M'rao remarked dryly. "As for correct vision, I've got that." Fortunately, or she'd never see the consequences of her actions coming. Not that she paid attention to them most of the time.

Although she was dying to sit on the edge of the rock and move closer (closer to what she really wanted), the greenrider elected to remain standing instead, face pensive. "You're an uncommon type, to draw in the middle of the night. What's your name?" If she learned the young woman's name, it would be that much easier to remember what she told her, and keep track of the falsehoods she was no doubt going to tell in the future. But first, a bit of politeness, to temper the other girl's mild annoyance. Truth again, too. She was being good tonight. "I'm M'rao, of green Seiliph."

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[Para]

“Well then, all you’ve got left is an immunity to strange smells, and you’ll be set.” Erunei fidgeted absently with a pencil, then firmly tucked it back behind her ear once she noticed. She couldn’t find anything else to do with her hands, though, so she pulled out one of the light pencils, examining the tip before deeming it sharp enough, flipping the page on her sketch pad and beginning to sketch out the largest areas and objects in the scene before her. Her mind proddingly remembering that someone was watching and paying attention and judging her sent her hand moving slightly faster and sharper, tightening from the looser, more fluid movements she used when relaxed. It would result in a slightly starker-looking sketch, in this case, but that didn’t particularly bother Erunei any. Her best work tended to be when more negative, or at least neutral, ideas and emotions were involved, and if someone was going to judge her, she’d rather it be on her better work.

Her movements faltered ever so slightly at the woman’s comment, but she turned the flick into a sharp edge in the canyon wall and kept going. I am an uncommon type in a lot more ways than that, Erunei’s mind huffed, but she kept her mouth shut. And I want to be alone. Why else would anyone be outside in this cold?

Ah, there. A rider. At least Erunei had some idea where the woman, M’rao, was in the hierarchy now; namely, higher than Erunei. So I can’t tell her to leave. Which was a shame; even if the woman wasn’t doing anything, her presence was becoming steadily more irritating. I want to be alone. I want to think. I want a chance to figure out where I went in everything that’s happened and how to get back to being me. You are not helping, and you are not welcome! “I’m Erunei. Nice to meet you.” She kept her voice neutral, and a bit distracted to cover up the irritation that seeped through, using the drawing as an excuse to focus on. Hopefully the woman would decide she was too focused on her art to pay attention to anything else, and leave on her own.

[‡§åkørü‡]

M'rao could have said any number of things to that, considering the numerous 'questionable' images that popped into her head. She was, however, quite sure that murmuring an inappropriate joke wasn't going to get her anywhere. Thus, she reluctantly let it slide, although the comment made her think of more than one situation she would have liked to be in.

Quite deliberately shoving those imaginings out of her mind, M'rao flicked her gaze to the girl's rapidly moving hand. Although the movements weren't all that interesting, it was engaging enough to simply watch a picture form on the paper, almost out of nothing. Knowing that some artists didn't like to be distracted while they were working, the redhead remained silent, watching Erunei draw until she decided to introduce herself. As hoped, the other offered her own name up in turn, and the greenrider greedily committed it to memory.

"Nice name," she commented offhandedly. "Nice to meet you too." It was - she always liked meeting new people... partly because they provided fodder for her games. She could tell she wasn't wanted, of course - or at least she suspected it - but that had never been enough to make the greenrider actually leave someone alone. It made her look like one of those people who just didn't pay attention to the signs they were given; she kept the smile on her face as though she were enjoying this, as though she didn't have just one goal in mind... well, okay, maybe two. "Do you always draw in the dark?" M'rao carefully engineered her tone to make sure it didn't sound as if she were demanding that answer and making fun of it. Rather, she implied that it must lend a nice touch to the drawings, the moonlight. As if she really cared.

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[Para]

Part of Erunei appreciated the woman’s silence. The other half, of course, was still stewing in frustration at the mere presence of another human being. But the woman was doing everything Erunei could possibly have asked; in fact, more than that. Anyone else would be adoring her right about now. And all I can do is want her to just stop existing. She focused on the drawing, trying to block the woman’s presence out of her mind.

She’d almost managed to when the woman--M’rao. When M’rao introduced herself. She let her eye twitch and her mouth twist into a frown of irritation for a moment before smoothing them out and giving her own name, trusting the dark and the angle of her head bent over the sketch to keep both hidden. I can’t even pretend to have time to myself!

Erunei... had never really thought about her name, nice or otherwise; it had always just been there. “Thank you.” Her response probably sounded slightly bemused, but she was busy playing with her name in her head; repeating the sounds to see if it did, in fact, sound nice. Erunei. Erunei. Erunei. Eru-nei. All it sounds like is a name.

She frowned again when M’rao asked if she normally drew at night, but much more slightly. “Uhm, no. No, most of the time, I sleep.” She noticed her legs starting to go numb and shifted slightly, catching a pencil as it started to fall before returning to drawing. “It’s just been... chaotic, recently. I haven’t had time to draw much at all.”

[‡§åkørü‡]

M'rao stood, almost completely silently, until she finally introduced herself. Erunei's name was a nice one - an interesting arrangement of syllables, and the sounds themselves were pleasing. But then, what was in a name? Letters. That was all. It held no meaning, no insight into what someone might be like. Names were for quick identification, some means of addressing one person as opposed to another, and they'd never interested the near-psychopath very much. But the people they identified... oh, yes. Those interested her. Especially anger. Anger was a most fascinating emotion, and she could see the signs of it in this girl. Other people might have left her alone. M'rao didn't.

"You're welcome," the rider replied automatically. It had become a habit to be polite (although she used that politeness in the sickest possible ways), so she couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to. From here, flitting to the next semi-interesting topic, M'rao tilted her head slightly, asking if Erunei was in the habit of drawing at night. The answer made her chuckle softly - a chilly little laugh, suited to the winter air.

Eyes focused on the quick, light movements of the girl's hand as she drew, the greenrider nonetheless managed to catch all of her words with ease, and reply to them accordingly. "Me too," she commented. Except, of course, when she had a partner for the night... but she wouldn't mention that right now. That was one way not to ever get the people one wanted.

Oh. Oh, this was interesting. Latching onto the somewhat conflicted sound of Erunei's comment, M'rao flicked her gaze briefly to Erunei's face. "Chaotic how?" she asked quietly. Nothing could have interested her more. Starving to know what was troubling her, how she, M'rao, could use it to further her own ends, the redhead's gaze took on an almost predatory aspect. Still, she masked it by dropping her eyes back to the picture, watching trees and bushes take shape under the touch of graphite. "Life is busy here in the Eyrie," she agreed with a small, cold smile. "But if you're out of practice at all, it doesn't show." Another truth. The more truth you backed your lies with, the less difficult it was to forget them. but M'rao was a master liar; she rarely forgot her own manipulations as it was.

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[Para]

Erunei shifted again as M’rao questioned her last, unfortunate--what kind of idiot was I to say that? Stupid!--comment. “Just... busy. The last few days. Since the hatching. I’m not really used to everything yet.” And that was no more intelligent a thing to say. Why can’t I have a brain on occasion?

The woman’s comment on Eyrie life was probably supposed to be reassuring, but to Erunei it only sounded patronizing. “Life anywhere is busy.” And mine in its various forms more than many others, she thought but decided against adding. The first sentence by itself was pushing rudeness. And I’ve adjusted every other time. I can adjust again. Or decide to leave. And that option was seeming more and more appealing the more she considered it.

Erunei made herself laugh a little at the woman’s comment on being out of practice. “I’m not, much. It’s only been a few days. But normally I could draw much more quickly than this. And with fewer lines... and not so much predrawing. And I don’t want to actually get out of practice.” She gestured at the lightest lines from her light pencil, hinting at vague forms of shapes in parts of the paper she hadn’t otherwise touched yet. “Landscapes aren’t really my specialty either, I’m better at portraits. People will stay still if I tell them to... sometimes, but the wind won’t turn off because I’m drawing.”

She considered the drawing for another moment before pointing at a bush. “I had to redraw that, there are too many branches now. And the line smeared here.” She pointed at the edge of a cliff. Hopefully if I keep talking about art she’ll get bored.... “The shadows here are too thick, and a bit too dark, and over here the reflections aren’t right.”

[‡§åkørü‡]

"Hatchings stir everything up," M'rao agreed somewhat dryly. She well remembered the first one, where she (surprisingly) had Impressed to Seiliph. Now the green was full-grown, and they had full rider duties. She couldn't deny that it felt liberating to be able to do whatever she wanted when she wasn't on watch duty at Chydyn. Being free of lessons was especially nice, and the greenrider wondered (somewhat smugly) if Erunei happened to be a candidate. "When did you get here?" was the question she asked instead, posed nonchalantly. It was in keeping with the conversation, after all.

The rider could tell that she was annoying the artist. Gleefully, she kept at it, although her intent wasn't necessarily to irritate Erunei. She was just having fun - her way, and in as sneaky a manner as she could manage. Considering M'rao's personality, this was fairly sneaky. As far as she knew, she wasn't making it blatantly obvious that she wasn't someone to be casually associated with. And that was where she got her unholy joy. Erunei didn't know about her, didn't know about the twisted creature that crouched, in place of a heart, within the greenrider's chest.

Nodding sagely as if she had any idea how fast artists might go out of practice, the redhead gave a soft laugh, shrugging. "Better than I could do." Still, she bent her knees slightly, crouching to the other girl's level, and flicked her gaze from the page to the scene in front of her. As far as she could tell, it was pretty much the same, except that of course one wasn't finished yet. "I can sort of see that," she admitted, although she didn't try to make any suggestions about how to fix it. This was for two reasons: first of all, she hadn't the faintest idea how to draw like Erunei did. Second of all, she just didn't care.

Portraits? Instantly the redhead perked up slightly, gaze flicking to the artist's face. She paused for a long moment, considering, and then an impish grin twisted up the corners of her mouth. "I can stay still," she offered slyly. "Want to try draw me?" Really, her only motivation was that she wanted to see what she looked like on paper. M'rao was a vain person; she couldn't help herself. Besides, who didn't want to see what they looked like as rendered by an artist? And if Erunei were drawing her, maybe she would stop being so annoyed, and although M'rao didn't care one way or the other, it would be easier to play with her mind if she were receptive to it, right?

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[Para]

Erunei spent a moment forcing her face to stay blank, swearing at herself, and trying to think of a way to avoid M’rao’s question before coming to the conclusion that she couldn’t. “A few days ago.” And I have no idea what that tells you about me but I certainly hope it’s nothing accurate. She began working slightly faster, wanting to get to filling in the darkest parts of the sketch.

She had to fight back another scowl when M’rao agreed with her assessment of the sketch’s flaws, and resist the urge to go back and try to fix them. It wouldn’t do any good at all, just make them worse. If I’m bad enough that even a complete non-artist can tell, I’m way out of practice, and not just from the last few days. Not that the last few days had helped in the least. This is absolutely ridiculous. I am an artist, not a--whatever they’re trying to make me be. If they ever even get around to explaining that. Erunei had heard “candidate” enough by now to figure out it was what she was supposed to be, but candidate for what, or what being a candidate entailed, she still wasn’t sure. And I’m not asking. The obvious answer would be a simourv rider, but that, while it may or may not be plausible for other candidates, was utterly absurd for her. Simourvs and riders are fighters. They exist to kill koxi. I’m not a fighter, and not strong enough to become one. She was, with the lack of explanation, beginning to suspect that she was wanted for something else entirely, or wasn’t wanted at all, and “candidate” was just the best excuse someone could come up with to keep her there, either until they got around to whatever they wanted, or found a polite way to send her off. If that’s the case, don’t bother, I’m just waiting for a polite way to leave.

Erunei blinked and froze for an instant when M’rao suggested that Erunei draw her, then hurriedly went back to drawing, switching to a different section to make the freeze slightly less obvious. “Uh... I could,” she managed to get around the various thoughts taking up her head. Why would you want a portrait? What’s going on? The hatching’s over, and you haven’t mentioned a marriage or birth or--anything. “I’d need better light, though.” Unless riders can just do that, get a portrait whenever they want--or if she doesn’t expect to pay--that would explain why they want me to stay here, I can’t reasonably charge much of anything if I’ve already got food and a room, no one thinks about supplies. “I can’t really see enough to do anything detailed in this light.” Well if she wants any more than a sketch she’s paying for it. If I can tell her that without being rude. A sketch I can do as practice.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Erunei wasn't proving particularly enthusiastic in answering her questions, but M'rao didn't mind. Instead, she let the 'a few days' reply go, focusing instead on the girl's drawing. She caught the candidate's slight change of expression when she agreed with the flaws of the picture, but still said nothing. True, they were barely visible to her and indeed she wouldn't even have noticed if not for the artist herself pointing them out. That wasn't the point, though. The point was that it was rather a lot of fun winding the girl up like this, although she really wasn't doing it on purpose. Not really.

Letting Erunei think whatever thoughts were running through her head (she was a face-reader, not a mind-reader), the greenrider stood quietly, watching her draw. It made her grin, ever so slightly, to see that the artist paused at M'rao's suggestion to make a portrait of her. Of course, Erunei hastily covered it up by moving to another section of the drawing, but M'rao chuckled mentally.

"I can get a lantern," she offered, "or we can move inside." Vain as she was, the guardrider found herself immensely interested in seeing a picture of herself. Maybe it was just a basic human fascination with how she would look on paper, but whether that was the case or not, M'rao offered a faint smile to Erunei. "Or if you can draw my face at all in this light, it doesn't have to be detailed." She thought for a moment, and then decided to sweeten the deal, a little thrill of anticipation running through her. "If we go inside and you do something detailed, I can pay you." The rider knew that artists generally expected to get paid for their services. She also knew that she had enough diasks to cover the cost, although she wasn't rich. But if it won over the candidate and made her a little more willing to serve M'rao's purposes... well, her money would be well spent, wouldn't it?

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[Para]

“A... a lantern isn’t steady enough, generally,” Erunei said, forcing the words out around her thoughts. She barely even noticed the stutter. I don’t want to be around her or anyone really but if I’m going to stay here I need to start establishing a reputation and even if I don’t stay it would be a good thing to have in case but I really don’t want to work now I don't want to deal with people.... She fought the thoughts down a bit and tried again. “Not outside, like this, anyway. Sometimes if there are a lot of them and there isn’t much wind, but I don’t think it would be enough now.”

Erunei paused for a bit to consider the suggestion of drawing without more light, twisting to look at the rider and evaluate the light. “I’m not sure... I might be able to do something, but it wouldn’t necessarily be recognizable as you.” Almost definitely wouldn’t, really, but Erunei was under no obligation to undersell her abilities.

The offer to pay stilled some of Erunei’s thoughts, only to replace them with another set. So she can pay. What’s the event, then? Or can riders just do that? How do riders even make money, are they paid for each koxi they kill? Whatever. If she can pay I can do it. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to.... “I could do that, but....” She cast around for something to add. “It would take more than one sitting, if you wanted a painted portrait. And one in pastels would still take a few hours, at least.” Only if she did a large one, but she could always argue that she didn’t want to do anything less than the best she could offer. That would hardly harm her reputation. But... oh, I don’t want to talk to people now, why can’t you leave me alone? You could have found me tomorrow.