Two Eyes Cenote flesh & toil

“So you believe it should not,” she counters, “and who wins your loyalty?”

She watches as he amuses himself, this game that was to him a laugh, or perhaps with levity that was intent to finesse something. Almost impulsively she had his own bearing reflected, shedding careful neutrality. Her eyes flick up to his. It seems a concession for him to talk about who she was.

“How helpless. It is a wonder I’ve survived at all without your sage advice, mazoi,” she whispers with derisive charm.