Noctisardor Bypass dammit pomegranate

Me time? What’s that? Druid quipped dryly as she walked toward the other woman, hoping Fiona would appreciate the joke.

Her two-toned eyes cast about for any sign of the woman’s companion, though she didn’t see Prowler. Druid’s gaze soon returned to Fiona’s face, which was truly a sight for sore eyes. She hadn’t realized until now but she’d been missing her company.

I don’t blame you for needing a bit of an escape, Druid said, her mind inevitably going to Etienne and his bid for such.

Could she really fault him, either? She sighed, trying to think of how to answer Fiona’s query as succinctly as possible. Did she even want to hear about the latest melodrama? If she’d distanced herself, maybe she was tired of it all.

No, but I don’t really want to talk about it, which was sort of a lie, though perhaps it was best not to dwell, and I imagine you don’t necessarily want to hear about it. So let’s talk about something else. How’s Prowler? Where is Prowler?