with each love i cut loose i was never the same
Flora’s laugh comes quickly, bright and incredulous. "Babe, of course," she says, as if Soh has suggested the sky might be at fault for getting rained on, her aqua eyes widening with immediate, emphatic certainty. "Colt turning out to be kind of a bitch is not at all a reflection on you. Honestly, I don’t think any of us saw that coming."
There’s still a little edge tucked beneath the words, not sharp enough to cut Soh but absolutely sharp enough to suggest Colt would not enjoy finding herself alone in a room with Flora any time soon, but that’s neither here nor there and technically not very spa-day-adjacent. Flora brings the wine to her lips and takes a sip, letting the taste soften her mouth before her brows rise again, theatrical but not careless. "So whatever ended up happening that suddenly you’re not allowed in the whole desert?"
Turning her attention to the question of whether or not someone might be persuaded to treat her spine like a badly-behaved dock plank in need of aggressive repairs, Flora snickers and gives an airy shrug. "Hey, if it’s offered, I’m just saying I might not say no." Her grin tilts wickedly for half a second, all polish and trouble, before easing back into something softer as she follows Soh’s attention toward the pristine couch.
Considering the white fabric with a critical eye, Flora completely misses the faint, uneasy shift in Soh’s colour, too busy imagining the hidden underbelly of luxury spa logistics. "Y’know, I bet it’s all magic fabric, sort of like they used to have at the Halenani," she muses, reaching out to smooth her fingertips lightly over the cushion. "Otherwise I bet we’d see these for sale everywhere with the teeniest little stains on them."
There’s still a little edge tucked beneath the words, not sharp enough to cut Soh but absolutely sharp enough to suggest Colt would not enjoy finding herself alone in a room with Flora any time soon, but that’s neither here nor there and technically not very spa-day-adjacent. Flora brings the wine to her lips and takes a sip, letting the taste soften her mouth before her brows rise again, theatrical but not careless. "So whatever ended up happening that suddenly you’re not allowed in the whole desert?"
Turning her attention to the question of whether or not someone might be persuaded to treat her spine like a badly-behaved dock plank in need of aggressive repairs, Flora snickers and gives an airy shrug. "Hey, if it’s offered, I’m just saying I might not say no." Her grin tilts wickedly for half a second, all polish and trouble, before easing back into something softer as she follows Soh’s attention toward the pristine couch.
Considering the white fabric with a critical eye, Flora completely misses the faint, uneasy shift in Soh’s colour, too busy imagining the hidden underbelly of luxury spa logistics. "Y’know, I bet it’s all magic fabric, sort of like they used to have at the Halenani," she muses, reaching out to smooth her fingertips lightly over the cushion. "Otherwise I bet we’d see these for sale everywhere with the teeniest little stains on them."
