Gwenaëlle breathes in deeply through her nose and out her mouth, squaring her shoulders and and resolutely pivoting, shoulder to Stephen's chest (she's glad, abruptly, for not having worn the veilfire dress that would have prevented as much) and her back to Marcellin Roux. The space between her shoulderblades feels tight in a way she doesn't like, and it shows, lingering in her discomfort.
It's very polite of her grandfather not to outright acknowledge what he's definitely noticed, but she's not remotely close to subtle enough for anyone to plausibly believe he didn't.
“I know perfectly well those are excuses,” she says, “made by the ignorant or the cowardly or both. Unfortunately, we have to deal with more of those than I personally think is fair but not,”
to neatly answer Stephen's question,
“that one, no. And I remember the names of everyone who wants to know what else we can do for them first, and I'll remember them when this is done, too.”
no subject
It's very polite of her grandfather not to outright acknowledge what he's definitely noticed, but she's not remotely close to subtle enough for anyone to plausibly believe he didn't.
“I know perfectly well those are excuses,” she says, “made by the ignorant or the cowardly or both. Unfortunately, we have to deal with more of those than I personally think is fair but not,”
to neatly answer Stephen's question,
“that one, no. And I remember the names of everyone who wants to know what else we can do for them first, and I'll remember them when this is done, too.”