Concoctions bubbled. Liquids hissed under pressure. Book pages turned during brief waiting periods. He sighed in frustration. The making of this particular potion took up too many resources. A trip to the marketplace was necessary afterward. A list was completed.
"Of course you'd be here. I was worried for nothing." Ah, that silvery voice.
He poured a mixture into an empty flask. Another book page turned. Glass clinked and solvents boiled in various colors.
"Mm, neither of us are good at communicating sometimes, huh?"
"Didn't you say anything to Nevra at least?" The elf began to stir a slimy liquid.
There was shuffling, and he noted her thoughtful observing of a bookshelf. A hooded cloak shrouded her appearance while she held a mask in her hand.
"Pretty Absynthe girls were surrounding him again. Besides, I think he'll understand."
Silence settled between them. He poured the mixture into a beaker; sizzles and pops echoed while steam rose. Ezarel stepped away from his work station. Thirty minutes. Meanwhile, that woman approached him. Slow, hesitant steps. She kissed him, but the elf made no effort to hold her. He simply stood in that brief moment. That brief moment. The woman rested her head against his chest.
"You were an idiot then. Still an idiot," he said.
"And?"
"...I couldn't think. But I had to. I would have stopped otherwise."
"Did you hate me?"
"For only a moment. Just a moment."
His arms had her in a tight embrace, as if she were to fade out of existence as they talked. As if she were to fly from a silver cage and never return. But she did not complain on how difficult it was to breathe nor tease him. She listened. To his breaths and his heartbeat and the boiling of the potion. The elf allowed his eyes to droop. It was inevitable.
"And what now?"
Silence, but Ezarel's grip loosened. There were important tasks to complete.
"Then I won't say it. We won't say it. To each other. Ever," she said.
"Such a childish solution."
"But it's too hurtful. For you especially, right?"
She did not pull away. Those unmistakable eyes looked up with a sorrowful glimmer. That irritatingly pretty smile showed itself again, but something else was attached. And she spoke. Whispers of nice things and worrisome things and unknown things. That woman tried. Her presence aggravated him and comforted him all the same. And when the door shut, the elf chuckled out of bitterness.