Compressed
…..
She walked in the tavern and he slid deeper into the plush booth, glancing her way but refusing to watch fully.
The truth is, his tricks weren't working anymore.
His monstrous reasonings held no teeth.
He tapped his staff in rhythm to her swishing hair as she approached the barmaid.
He would not, as he had imagined most of their acquaintance, be dirtying her reputation. He would not be luring her to jump the precipice with him.
She took the teacup the barmaid offered. Then-
"Excuse me, do you have a cup that's not chipped?"
She's so hard to please.
And she did not want him. And he did not want her not wanting him.
She did not get a new cup, much to her dismay.
And she almost didn't see him as she walked to a sweet table by the only window.
The peppery taste of Filia's agitation swelled on his tongue.
"Hello, Filia," he greeted.