[ Bastien smiles a little, pleased that they seem to have made peace, and then he turns neatly away. He’s not envious of the kissing, exactly. He could have; he didn’t. But he is envious of the ease of it, when he wouldn’t have been able to, himself, without the question of how might Alexandrie feel about it hanging like a veil between his mouth and Byerly’s cheek.
But it’s fine. He’ll kiss him later.
He thinks about trying to say something funny about needlework, or maybe reminding them again not to waste the cake, he means it—but he settles on a quiet, unobtrusive, ] Salut, [ and sliding out the door. ]
no subject
But it’s fine. He’ll kiss him later.
He thinks about trying to say something funny about needlework, or maybe reminding them again not to waste the cake, he means it—but he settles on a quiet, unobtrusive, ] Salut, [ and sliding out the door. ]