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"Ah, good! You're back!" Jerell jumped out of his chair to help seat Sylenn.
"Thank you for your patience, Mr. Graig," she replied shyly.
"Not at all, not at all. Are you ready for some dessert, of would you like another cup of tisane?"
"Tisane, please." She sipped appreciatively while he poured a cup for himself. "Tell me, Mr. Graig, if you would; if you could do anything, anything at all anywhere in the world, what would you do?"
"Ah. Well, give me a moment to think, if you would. There are a great many things I would like to do; I would love to travel about and see what's out there. Modern seafaring has made international travel much easier, as have the Rail-Roads and electrical carriages, so getting around isn't nearly so difficult. Why, did you know that a steam ship can take you all the way to Tuvaul in barely three months? I've seen some of their woodcarvings; it sounds like a fascinating place. I'll bet there are some amazing stories to find over there, and some incredible people."
Sylenn stared into her cup, not listening.
"I'm sorry, Miss Jenfsen, for rambling--"
"Sylenn," she said.
"Pardon?" He blinked at the non sequitur.
"You may call me Sylenn; I-- It makes me feel old to hear you call me 'Miss Jenfsen' all the time, like you're addressing my mother or something. I'm just Sylenn."
"Ah, I can certainly understand that, and I do appreciate the permission. Sylenn." He flushed and looked into his own cup. "Ah, well, it always makes me feel old and too much like my father to be called 'Mr. Graig', so I would be honored if you would call me Jerell." Another stupid grin that he could do nothing about.
"I will, Jerell," she replied, glancing at him. From any other woman, it would have been a coy, flirtatiously shy glance. She truly was nervous.
"If I may ask, Sylenn, you've hardly mentioned your family. You said that you grew upon the streets, but I don't recall you saying how that came about. I don't mean to probe; I'm genuinely--"
"It's alright, Jerell. It's just a long and painful story. I haven't seen my family in over nine years, except for my brother. He found me last year. I ... had a falling out with them when I was still a girl, and ... I ran away from home. I spent almost half my life wandering from city to city, living off whatever I could ... scavenge. When Mosin found me last year, I made him promise not to tell anyone in our family. I think it's best that they consider me dead."
The depth of her pain checked by her quiet dignity impressed him. "But you want to see them again, don't you?" he asked softly. She looked up, hazel eyes green with hidden tears. Don't drown, he warned himself.
"I-- yes. I want to see them. But ... Oh, there's so much I can't say. I still think it's better for them to think of me as being dead."
"Well, don't feel that you must tell me if you can't, Sylenn. But think about this: if you had thought they were dead, and they weren't, wouldn't you want to see them? Even if you parted on bad terms, wouldn't you want at least one more chance to speak with them? Think about it, Sylenn; take your time. It is an important decision and should not be made lightly.
"What is keeping our waiter, I wonder?"
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