you look like my next mistake
Flora doesn’t move to follow Kaisel, nor does she pretend to be useful; instead she simply tilts her head, watching it all unfold with a kind of fascinated disbelief that settles somewhere between amusement and what the hell is actually happening. It isn’t every day, after all, that she finds herself at a baby shower in the Dusklight, watching her secret husband get roped into delivering a baby he’d briefly thought was his, all while the room teeters between celebration and full-blown chaos, and there’s something about the sheer absurdity of it that keeps her rooted exactly where she is.
Her gaze lingers on Kaisel as he fumbles through encouragement, the exaggerated breathing, the wild energy of it, and despite herself her mouth twitches, the corner of it pulling upward as if she might laugh if she lets herself think about it too hard. Instead, she exhales softly through her nose and reaches for the nearest drink, downing it in one smooth motion, the burn sharp and immediate, her throat working once before she lowers the empty glass again, her eyes never quite leaving the scene in front of her.
Her gaze lingers on Kaisel as he fumbles through encouragement, the exaggerated breathing, the wild energy of it, and despite herself her mouth twitches, the corner of it pulling upward as if she might laugh if she lets herself think about it too hard. Instead, she exhales softly through her nose and reaches for the nearest drink, downing it in one smooth motion, the burn sharp and immediate, her throat working once before she lowers the empty glass again, her eyes never quite leaving the scene in front of her.
