Nerva was doing her absolute best to ignore everything and everyone save for the wine in her glass and the wood grain of the bar - which she was quickly memorizing. Twelve slightly sloping lines, a swirl in the left, then 18 more straight lines with a tiny little knot in the right. Counting gave her something else to think about, at least, but it was getting hard to think considering that she didn't need to look at Benevenuta to be able to smell her.
It wasn't that it was even that strong - the scent faint - but it was there, and it was hard to ignore the proximity with which the mage sat.
She hadn't protested when Benevenuta had sat down - mostly because protesting would mean speaking, which she wasn't interested in doing - but she was regretting that decision now. Because the mage had gone and made herself comfortable.
She makes a low sound in her throat - not a word, not quite a growl but somewhere between that and a grunt, and downs the rest of her wine a little too quickly before tapping the glass a little harder than she needed to on the table.
no subject
It wasn't that it was even that strong - the scent faint - but it was there, and it was hard to ignore the proximity with which the mage sat.
She hadn't protested when Benevenuta had sat down - mostly because protesting would mean speaking, which she wasn't interested in doing - but she was regretting that decision now. Because the mage had gone and made herself comfortable.
She makes a low sound in her throat - not a word, not quite a growl but somewhere between that and a grunt, and downs the rest of her wine a little too quickly before tapping the glass a little harder than she needed to on the table.