He peered at her sidelong, amused or exasperated: he had forgotten how odd Miss Potts was. (Or – well, maybe she had grown into her oddness, with the years.) I don’t think so was possibly the most impersonal, academically-curious, theoretical answer one could give: like she was dealing more with a puzzle or a riddle than the facets of her own life.
Endymion wanted to take that as a no, she hadn’t had any secret loves, but. Well, not that he had any skin in the game. “Pure serendipity,” he argued (maybe joking; maybe just that optimistic) – he certainly felt that some kind of magical spontaneity played into any matters of love. He didn’t think this would convince her in the slightest, of course. “Or they saw you coming this way, and stuffed it in here when you weren’t looking.”
Endymion wanted to take that as a no, she hadn’t had any secret loves, but. Well, not that he had any skin in the game. “Pure serendipity,” he argued (maybe joking; maybe just that optimistic) – he certainly felt that some kind of magical spontaneity played into any matters of love. He didn’t think this would convince her in the slightest, of course. “Or they saw you coming this way, and stuffed it in here when you weren’t looking.”
