Well, shit. She was smart, then, an intellectual. Tactical, if she was good at chess. Practical, if she had made such use of her summers. Not just a – frilly, pureblood, vacuous debutante. Theo didn’t know why he would have preferred her to be an idiot, but he thought it would have been easier to hate her if she had been. And – harder for Cash to care about her, maybe. Her being likeable didn’t help anything.
Theo was aware he was stewing on this more than he should. “Interesting,” he murmured in reply, forcing himself to react as if he was politely impressed by her and nothing more: not resentful, not sour, not desperate to dislike her. (Shame she hadn’t just set his arm on fire.) “Well,” he added dryly, only half a joke, “if we’re stuck in hiding here for much longer, I suppose we can conjure up a chess set to pass the time?”
Theo was aware he was stewing on this more than he should. “Interesting,” he murmured in reply, forcing himself to react as if he was politely impressed by her and nothing more: not resentful, not sour, not desperate to dislike her. (Shame she hadn’t just set his arm on fire.) “Well,” he added dryly, only half a joke, “if we’re stuck in hiding here for much longer, I suppose we can conjure up a chess set to pass the time?”
