(A/N)- I'm almost finished with this but if I don't like how it goes this may be a one-shot. let me know what you think! and yes i know i have other fic to work on i haven't forgotten!
Imogen suspected Constance might have feelings for her.
How could she not?
On their brief holiday, during which they met Serge Dubois and his band of boy scouts, Imogen noticed how the witch shifted uncomfortably whenever the ranger looked at her. How she'd clear her throat whenever the man touched Imogen on the arm. The cutting glares she'd shoot at Serge whenever he tried to engage the witch in conversation, glares which burned tremendously especially if he succeeded in making the sports mistress laugh.
"He's no good for you."
Imogen sat up in her sleeping bed on the floor of the cabin, looking towards the witch who had not gotten ready for bed yet, having protested that she wanted to stay up until she was sure the girls had all gone to bed. She was now sitting at the table, sipping some tea which Imogen had guessed she'd snuck some wide-awake potion into because there was no way she was naturally this alert at such an ungodly hour.
"Excuse me?" Imogen asked, genuinely offended by her statement.
"He's young and immature. He only has you fooled because he talks like he knows what he's doing, and because he has children to look after, but have you actually listened to what he says?"
"What do you mean?" Imogen asked in a huff, rubbing her forehead in annoyance as she plopped back down onto her pillow, staring at the ceiling.
"He's very vague. Going on about his job and his life goals, but he talks carelessly about it as if life was handed to him on a silver platter. He has no direction. He just likes the attention of women. And you're too smitten to notice anything."
"How am I smitten?" Imogen groaned, pressing the palms of her hands into her eye sockets.
"You won't stop staring at him. It's rather irritating and embarrassing."
"I'm being polite, Miss Hardbroom," she replied matter-of-factly, and she rolled over, looking at her, "Besides, what does it matter to you if I fancy him?"
She could've sworn she saw the normally-pale woman blush before she put her tea aside and turned her back on her as she went to grab her cloak.
"It doesn't." she said finally.
"Then why are you telling me all this?"
Constance opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Looking almost frightful, she quickly turned her expression into that of a sneer, "It's just not proper, that's all. Not with children around. If you had any respect for yourself-"
Imogen sat up, "Stop talking to me as if I'm snogging him in front of them and go do your rounds."
Constance's face flushed a very deep red as she scowled but was so taken aback by her foul language that she couldn't muster up a retort and reluctantly left the cabin, making sure to slam it as she exited.