Themis' lip twitched, a soft grin not quite reaching her eyes. And here she was under the impression that she'd maintained her facade to the broader world. It hadn't surprised her when her son asked about her mood, but coming from a virtual stranger unsettled her. Apparently, she wasn't the only one with a habit of observation. She wasn't sure if she should be concerned, but she wouldn't take Professor Crowley's gaze for granted again. That would be folly. She considered her response as she let her eyes map her surroundings. Her host was difficult to look away from, yet somehow harder to look at. Something about the witch's mannerisms and dress brought to mind a skeleton, the line between living and dead seemingly blurred in the body of a woman very much alive. This, she thought, was what muggles and the small-minded imagined when they spoke of witches.
"In a manner of speaking, yes." She wasn't inclined to lie; it would be disrespectful to her host and a blow to her own ethical code. There were plenty of ways to tell the truth and keep her secrets safe. She disliked thinking of Samuel as a secret. It was disingenuous and gave the impression, in her mind, that there was some reason for shame. Of all the things complicating her world, shame had no part in it. She was not ashamed of the man she adored. Her only regret now, as she stood before an unlikely and unwitting judge, was that she hadn't the courage to be honest about the depths of her feelings. It was, perhaps, the worst way she had failed him. Anguish was the correct term for the turmoil in her chest; it was joined by a spark of something aggressive and defensive, the urge to bear her teeth and disguise all weakness. It was reactionary, ridiculous. She allowed the feeling to settle in amid the convoluted mess of her heart. This was not the time for impulsive words. "Perhaps it is my unknowing that troubles me so." Not a lie, but an evasion all the same.
She didn't startle when the door closed behind her, but the feeling of the walls closing in skittered up her spine. This was not her realm; this was not her sanctuary; until proven otherwise, Professor Crowley was not her ally. It was do her well to remember that.
"In a manner of speaking, yes." She wasn't inclined to lie; it would be disrespectful to her host and a blow to her own ethical code. There were plenty of ways to tell the truth and keep her secrets safe. She disliked thinking of Samuel as a secret. It was disingenuous and gave the impression, in her mind, that there was some reason for shame. Of all the things complicating her world, shame had no part in it. She was not ashamed of the man she adored. Her only regret now, as she stood before an unlikely and unwitting judge, was that she hadn't the courage to be honest about the depths of her feelings. It was, perhaps, the worst way she had failed him. Anguish was the correct term for the turmoil in her chest; it was joined by a spark of something aggressive and defensive, the urge to bear her teeth and disguise all weakness. It was reactionary, ridiculous. She allowed the feeling to settle in amid the convoluted mess of her heart. This was not the time for impulsive words. "Perhaps it is my unknowing that troubles me so." Not a lie, but an evasion all the same.
She didn't startle when the door closed behind her, but the feeling of the walls closing in skittered up her spine. This was not her realm; this was not her sanctuary; until proven otherwise, Professor Crowley was not her ally. It was do her well to remember that.
![[Image: Bka0H0x.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/Bka0H0x.jpeg)