Camilla softened visibly as Savino called her a good hostess; if she wasn't going to be someone's excellent wife, then she could at least be everyone's excellent wife. But — she reminded herself — she would be someone's excellent wife this year. She may have mustered a joke in response, but Camilla caught the look he gave her on warn and looked in the direction Savino nodded. Fuck.
(It was almost disappointing that they could still communicate this way, too — like despite her intentions otherwise they were still family underneath it all, still had that veneer of having spent much of their childhoods together. Or perhaps Savino was just expressive, and good at conveying what he meant. Hm.)
"I shall," Camilla said, "But I must go rejoin my sister — goodbye, Savino."
She fled.
(It was almost disappointing that they could still communicate this way, too — like despite her intentions otherwise they were still family underneath it all, still had that veneer of having spent much of their childhoods together. Or perhaps Savino was just expressive, and good at conveying what he meant. Hm.)
"I shall," Camilla said, "But I must go rejoin my sister — goodbye, Savino."
She fled.
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