Swiftcurrent Creek disappointed people clinging onto bottles

Eshe seems surprised, and Wren was beginning to sense some double standards on Akavir's part. Squinting, she maintains her cool exterior, a roll of her shoulders indicating a shrug. Now, I won't go into any detail, but, uh, let's just say I knew a guy that Akavir had some beef with in the past. It's alright now, though. At that, her head is lifted proudly; broad chest puffed out in a fanatical display. I like to think Akavir and I are pretty close these days.
There was a lot of ambiguity and unnecessary complexities to the inner workings of Wren and Akavir's bond. Pent-up lust, loneliness, camaraderie. A web of things that had no label or definition, and perhaps didn't need one.
And within that was protectiveness — Eshe's eyes seemed to light up like a schoolgirl at the mere mention of Akavir's name, and Wren being Wren felt a need to passively assert her dominance. Was this chick good enough for him? Or perhaps it was just jealousy; the way Wren craved his approval, clawing at walls and praying he would spare her a glance if only for a second; and in comes Eshe, this pretty little thing who had not a mean bone in her body. If Wren had to guess, she was sure Akavir had been eyeballing her from the moment she arrived.
It was how she initially felt about Silvertongue all over again.
The inquiry about turkey brings her back to reality, even if only for a moment. Um, a pause. I think so. Maybe if we're lucky we can find some.