Except it wasn't all, and Tilda could tell. Jaw tightening, she resisted to urge to pick her drink up and chuck it at Noble's head like she would Lach or Quill when they were being equally as transparent but stubborn. It wasn't her place to force the subject with him, and yet she still felt the urge to do just that. She could feel her lips twitching into a purse, but fought it by smiling at him. "Alright," she nodded, raising her drink to her lips instead of in the air to use her friend's head as target practice.

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