we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
There's some relief upon her face at Finn's reassurance, though it's tempered by lingering anxiety, the doubts that swirl through her mind so easily setting her view askew. She swallows it down as best she can, a soft "Okay," breathed into the teacup, simply accepting him at face value. And then another one: "Okay," in response to the black tea.
As for Amalia? She takes hers with milk and honey, and perhaps more of the latter than can be considered strictly appropriate.
She stirs the tea until it turns a lighter shade of brown, then places the spoon to the side and presses her hands around the cup. The warmth is soothing, and the aroma as well, and for the moment Amalia is content to sit in comfortable silence as the beverages cool, taking occasional tentative sips and looking thoughtfully into the distance, somewhere to Finn's right.
As for Amalia? She takes hers with milk and honey, and perhaps more of the latter than can be considered strictly appropriate.
She stirs the tea until it turns a lighter shade of brown, then places the spoon to the side and presses her hands around the cup. The warmth is soothing, and the aroma as well, and for the moment Amalia is content to sit in comfortable silence as the beverages cool, taking occasional tentative sips and looking thoughtfully into the distance, somewhere to Finn's right.
Amalia
