Something was... different. He knew this, because she usually looked so very composed, everything she did well-placed. Now when she looked round something fleeting crossed her face that he couldn’t interpret, something he could fool himself into thinking was a hopeful sign even as the downward turn of her mouth convinced him it was not.

And there it was again, the sentiment he read in her words entirely missing from her eyes. Ought he have come out to speak with her or not? When he was as close as he dared be he fell to a halt, still studying her intently. “I’m glad,” he answered, trying his best to take an encouraging note, though a crease forming on his brow betrayed it. Was he reading too much into it, or did her ‘chance to speak with you’ sound a little more ominous than the pleasant conversation they could usually attest to at a party like this?

“Forgive me if I speak out of turn,” Evander said abruptly, steeling himself with a careful breath but not daring to neglect addressing it while they were alone, “but - is there something the matter?” Had someone this evening caused her some hardship or - offence? Had he done something wrong without even knowing it? (He supposed if she took offence at his prying he would have an answer to that, regardless.)

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