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Summary
Navia nodded. “She isn’t feeling well.”
Wriothesley was disappointed, of course, but that didn’t sound concerning. “Okay, did you think she was lying?”
“Oh, Archons, no, I saw her. She was really sick. That was the problem.” Navia paused, taking a sip of tea. “You know Clorinde, she usually never let anyone see her sick or let it change her routine even if it made it worse. So imagine my surprise when she asked me to cancel your date. Clo would’ve dragged herself down here sick as a dog.”
He tried to take a sip of his own cup of tea to distract himself, because what Navia was saying was, in fact, concerning.
Navia grimaced at him. “It gets worse though.”
“Worse?”
“She called off work.”
Oh, that was…oh, that was bad. He must’ve faltered in hiding his own concern because Navia gestured towards him.
“My feelings exactly.“
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Written for Wriothesley and Clorinde’s ship weeks 2024.