Being Friendly
Some people, thought Evin, don't understand him. He isn't a flirt, they just don't get it. He's… enthusiastic. With a… bubbly personality. He's friendly, that's all. Yeah, so he may be a bit friendlier with court ladies in silken dresses with titles from the Book of Gold, but they just happen to be very keen to be his… friend. If these ladies have never even thought about wearing breeches, then so be it. If they've never held a sword, even better. Never tried their delicate lily-white hands at archery, then brilliant. Some of them, the ones he flirts with mos— is better friends with, have never even ridden a horse! And none of them have green eyes. Evin knows that if they had green eyes they would be the wrong shade - not that perfect, misty, driftglass green - and he would be forever comparing them to the eyes of one who nearly always wore breeches, fought well with sword and bow, and certainly rode a lot. And that would be bad, because if he lets himself think too much about Miri, then he'll find it hard to keep pretending; to be friends with her when he wants so much more. He could tell you for hours about every inch of her face, about her hopes or dreams or fears, about all the scrapes he got them into, and about how she got them out. Evin knows it's bad, he's as good as lying to her every single time he sees her, talks to her, laughs with her. He can't help it. She doesn't like him that way, he is positive, they are just friends. So he gets friendly with delicate court ladies who are nothing like her, and he pretends he is satisfied.
Late at night, Miri can't sleep for wishing she were Evin's type.
