Zelda tapped her fingertips against her knee and listened to him. He could stay. He could stay, which did not mean that he was going to, but at least it was not a flat-out refusal.

The thing was, she could live without him. She could go to work and live her life as properly as she could; she could attend the parties she was supposed to in the gaps around that. She could try to put him out of her mind; she could leave adventures to the people in her life with the freedom to live them. She could be wistful about them. She could think about him sometimes, when she was lonely.

Or she could sneak around. She could duck into his flat when he was here, touch him the way she wanted to be touched, spend a little bit of time with him. She could come in after work and between projects and whisper to him when she could. She could sustain that until Alfred gave up on her; her desire to be around him would not be exhausted until after his patience was.

And then he would leave, and she would be lonely, and eventually she would have to try to move on - or stare down the barrel of the gun of spinsterhood, like Xena was. She could lie and get married and quit her job and settle down and have children. She could build a life for herself in the gaps her husband left for her, like her sisters had, like Dionisia was. Her father would be proud of her, maybe, for the first time in her life.

She was not a person who wanted either of those things; she was not sure she could be.

"I want a life," Zelda admitted, "But I want it with you."

---