He narrowed his eyes at the question, now almost feeling as though she were trying to test him, or catch him out. But he could not say he had strong enough feelings about this conversation or this party to care what she thought of him, so he gave the room another cursory look - as if most of the flowers hadn’t already been destroyed - and gave another exaggerated shrug.
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps the naivety of youth,” Yassine answered, as if he had ever thought about primroses for more than a second of his life. There had been enough of them about tonight, though they were hardly flashy flowers and rather insipid in colour, too; so he had seen more than enough of them to last a lifetime. Certainly not a reflection of the beauty of youth, or the boldness, and maybe he ought to have said innocence rather than naivety - but he was being quite kind, he thought, by not saying directly that they were largely lacklustre and probably pointed to the debutante of the evening being no less so.
Admittedly, Yassine was not exactly a master of kindness. He turned his gaze upon her again, appraising. “I could not say why they caught fire, though,” he added, feigning innocence. “Is that just what happens to the debutantes who do not make a match, once they have seen a few too many seasons?” (He suspected they usually just wilted away, but once they were a little past their expiration date spontaneous combustion probably would be more merciful.)
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps the naivety of youth,” Yassine answered, as if he had ever thought about primroses for more than a second of his life. There had been enough of them about tonight, though they were hardly flashy flowers and rather insipid in colour, too; so he had seen more than enough of them to last a lifetime. Certainly not a reflection of the beauty of youth, or the boldness, and maybe he ought to have said innocence rather than naivety - but he was being quite kind, he thought, by not saying directly that they were largely lacklustre and probably pointed to the debutante of the evening being no less so.
Admittedly, Yassine was not exactly a master of kindness. He turned his gaze upon her again, appraising. “I could not say why they caught fire, though,” he added, feigning innocence. “Is that just what happens to the debutantes who do not make a match, once they have seen a few too many seasons?” (He suspected they usually just wilted away, but once they were a little past their expiration date spontaneous combustion probably would be more merciful.)
