Why aren't you enjoying the reveling? You turn to the louder bonfire with a shrug, your expression neutral in the firelight. "Me? I'm an old invalid." You raise your arm enough for it to catch the light, showing the brace that covers your bicep; she's already seen the newly minted scar. Neither of these are legitimate reasons to avoid the partying, but it's as much an excuse as you feel like giving. Truth be told, you've been to your fair share of these over the years. Sometimes it's nice to sit back and watch others enjoying themselves.
Oh, so she's another friend of the governor. Something sours in your mouth; you'd wanted to go a night without being reminded of that whole situation, but here you are. "Can't say I've had the pleasure of seein' the Greatwood. Maybe someday." Not that you're super interested, given your encounter with one of its denizens. You're a homebody true and true.
Ah, so she has a son. This, too, squeezes at something in you, though this time it isn't sour. "How old's he?" Ray would have been 13 this year, cavorting around the bonfires. Probably would have done his first island hop, while you tried to hide your panic. "Off revelin' somewhere?"
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
