Wouldn't claim to feel the same we felt the first time it was heard
"Did he?" Hester looks up from her work just in time to meet his gaze, a confused furrow in her brows. When she'd last talked to the barkeep, he'd made it perfectly clear that he was done with music, and as much as she hadn't agreed with the idea, she had let it lie. Less competition for her anyway. "He told me he'd burned his lute, didn't want to play anymore." A shrug graces her shoulders, before she's smiling softly, and turning back to her task so she doesn't focus too much on him, so she isn't too overwhelming. "I'd love that. If you have the time."
She can all but feel his gaze drop again, and hazards a glance up again, the smile on her face freezing awkwardly at his words, his revelation. "I'm sorry." The words are small, said because she knows she has to, because she isn't sure what else to offer, other than the utter lack of her gaze, her focus returning with a vengeance to her job. It's something she can only maintain a moment, if that. Hester's arms fly out to pull Glas into a tight hug. Still not quite the response she thinks she's supposed to have, but it feels better than the apology had. "Where are you staying?" She asks, without pulling away.
She can all but feel his gaze drop again, and hazards a glance up again, the smile on her face freezing awkwardly at his words, his revelation. "I'm sorry." The words are small, said because she knows she has to, because she isn't sure what else to offer, other than the utter lack of her gaze, her focus returning with a vengeance to her job. It's something she can only maintain a moment, if that. Hester's arms fly out to pull Glas into a tight hug. Still not quite the response she thinks she's supposed to have, but it feels better than the apology had. "Where are you staying?" She asks, without pulling away.
Hester
