It strikes her as a bit sad that apologies have been so few and far between that, much like love, she never learned how to deal with them. A dozen different responses make it no further than the back of her throat before she presses her lips into a tight line — a perfunctory facsimile of a smile — and nods once.
Rather than let the silence stretch out uncomfortably long, Athessa leans forward and nudges her glass in Byerly's direction. Pour, please.
no subject
Rather than let the silence stretch out uncomfortably long, Athessa leans forward and nudges her glass in Byerly's direction. Pour, please.