wear the moon like a halo

Maeve

Well then. Someone was in a fucking mood. Her lips press into a thin line and that smile that had been playing so happily on her lips fades. "Jata, I have no judgement to pass on your work ethic. It was a joke." Maeve huffs, shaking her head as her eyes drop to her feet for a moment. Clearly things hadn't gotten better in the time since they last spoke. If anything, Maeve thinks they might have gotten worse. Not that she's going to push his buttons by asking. Especially when he has a hammer in his grasp.

"It happens with the change in seasons. So much pollen from everything blooming. I'm sure it's nothing." Her bottom lips finds its way between her teeth as he informs her that Nate isn't in. "I see... I guess it wouldn't hurt to check." She offers, eyes slipping towards the door for any sign of movement inside. Not seeing any, but unable to really determine if it was left unattended, Maeve heads inside. Thankfully there is someone to help her and soon her small basket is loaded with her order. It's maybe ten minutes or so before she steps back outside. He's still hammering away at the boards, jaw set firmly.

She hesitates, setting her basket down by the steps, "Would you like some help? I'm not the best with tools, but I can hold things in place if you'd like an extra set of hands." Maeve almost expects him to turn her down given the mood he's in. She's not even sure he's happy to see her again so soon. Part of her thinks he isn't.

These violent delights
Have violent ends