i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
Flora watches the bell fall with all the helpless horror of someone seeing a drink tip in slow motion from three tables away, her hand still hovering uselessly in the air as if she might somehow persuade gravity to reconsider. The handle rolls first, wobbly and undecided, and for one bright, stupid second she thinks maybe it will spare them; then it tips, drops, and chimes once against the boards with such a mournful little note that her frown deepens in immediate sympathy.
"Wh—" she begins, only for Kaisel to cough cinnamon. Her frown doubles at once, and Flora’s hand lands against his back in several brisk pats, as if she might be able to slap the spice out of him through determination alone. "Babe?"
Only once the coughing starts to ease does her attention lift properly to the man behind the stall, though her palm stays between Kaisel’s shoulder blades, gold rings flashing faintly as she rubs once before letting her hand fall. Her aqua eyes narrow just slightly, not with outright suspicion yet, but with the sharpened interest of someone who has grown up around Torchline’s particular flavour of bargain and knows better than to trust a table just because it has good signage.
"Cinnamon bell?" Flora repeats under her breath, the words low and doubtful as her gaze flicks from the man’s muddy expression to the fallen bell and then back toward Kaisel, just to make sure he’s not about to start exhaling pie filling next.
When he seems able to breathe again, she glances over the table with her head tipped, curls slipping against her cheek as her expression shifts into something curious despite herself. "So what, they’re like... minor curses or boons?" she asks, careful not to touch anything this time, even if the gleam in her eyes says the warning has absolutely not had the sensible effect it probably should have.
"Wh—" she begins, only for Kaisel to cough cinnamon. Her frown doubles at once, and Flora’s hand lands against his back in several brisk pats, as if she might be able to slap the spice out of him through determination alone. "Babe?"
Only once the coughing starts to ease does her attention lift properly to the man behind the stall, though her palm stays between Kaisel’s shoulder blades, gold rings flashing faintly as she rubs once before letting her hand fall. Her aqua eyes narrow just slightly, not with outright suspicion yet, but with the sharpened interest of someone who has grown up around Torchline’s particular flavour of bargain and knows better than to trust a table just because it has good signage.
"Cinnamon bell?" Flora repeats under her breath, the words low and doubtful as her gaze flicks from the man’s muddy expression to the fallen bell and then back toward Kaisel, just to make sure he’s not about to start exhaling pie filling next.
When he seems able to breathe again, she glances over the table with her head tipped, curls slipping against her cheek as her expression shifts into something curious despite herself. "So what, they’re like... minor curses or boons?" she asks, careful not to touch anything this time, even if the gleam in her eyes says the warning has absolutely not had the sensible effect it probably should have.
