Trystan’s eyes had been on the mare whilst Mrs. Davenport answered him, watching her silently assure the winged horse that she was still there. Calypso was getting a little restless again, breathing heavily from her nostrils with the effort of the coming contraction – but all did seem to be going naturally.
By the time Mrs. Davenport glanced at him, though, Trystan’s gaze had been on her. She did not seem particularly pleased to see him – but that was beside the point, wasn’t it, if he was to be paying for her time today? “I’m glad,” Trystan answered, slowly coming within a few feet of the mare, in case Mrs. Davenport needed an extra set of hands or anything fetching in a hurry; and because Calypso could see him there, for he was nearer her head, and he was a familiar face; but he didn’t want to crowd her, in case it agitated her in the moment. “She’s my favourite. And,” he added pleasantly, because if all they could do for now was await the next push, he may as well make conversation, “how are you getting on?” He meant generally this time, in her life; and not just how she was faring with the foaling.
By the time Mrs. Davenport glanced at him, though, Trystan’s gaze had been on her. She did not seem particularly pleased to see him – but that was beside the point, wasn’t it, if he was to be paying for her time today? “I’m glad,” Trystan answered, slowly coming within a few feet of the mare, in case Mrs. Davenport needed an extra set of hands or anything fetching in a hurry; and because Calypso could see him there, for he was nearer her head, and he was a familiar face; but he didn’t want to crowd her, in case it agitated her in the moment. “She’s my favourite. And,” he added pleasantly, because if all they could do for now was await the next push, he may as well make conversation, “how are you getting on?” He meant generally this time, in her life; and not just how she was faring with the foaling.
