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Synnove stared at Lucia for a long moment longer, then turned to look at Aymeric.
The Lord Commander was gazing out across the Lochs to the rising gates of Ala Mhigo, and the Highlander felt her lips automatically curl in a snarl at the sight of the city of her birth covered in Garlean sigils and flags. The expression on Aymeric's face was one she was familiar with after walking the Ishgard battlements with him many times throughout her involvement in the Dragonsong War: that of a tactician rapidly assessing strengths, weaknesses, and positioning for men and artillery alike. Today, though, he had a sturdy ceramic mug full of tea in hand as he mentally finalized his plans, the steam visibly wafting from the liquid's surface in the cool air of dusk.
Galette had once again claimed her favorite spot draped around Aymeric’s shoulders to lord over all she surveyed. Instead of attempting to solicit chin scritches or ear rubs as was her usual habit, however, she had her gaze firmly fixed on the tea mug in Aymeric’s hand: following its path from when he lifted the mug to his mouth to sip from it to when he lowered it again, arms crossed, the mug directly below her. Every so often the carbuncle flicked an ear, or her nose twitched, or her tails curled, but her eyes never left that mug. Galette: her spoiled, sneaky, sharp-nosed, sweets-obsessed emerald carbuncle.
Synnove returned her attention to Lucia and said, her voice as dry as the winds of Southern Thanalan, “Tea? Or birch syrup?”
Lucia’s mouth twitched and her eyes crinkled in the way that meant she was surpassing a laugh. “I fear any answer to that would implicate myself in the matter,” the knight said primly. Synnove snorted in amusement; she knew Lucia had been working with Aymeric long enough to develop a sweet tooth of her own, and the First Commander had probably been the one to ensure the birch syrup was included at all with the supplies the Temple Knights took with them to Gyr Abania.
“You are aware that I am able to hear the two of you.” Aymeric’s voice was drier than Synnove's own had been.
Both Synnove and Lucia turned and saw Aymeric’s flat, unamused faced directed at them, his mug halfway to his mouth. But they also saw Galette, who had immediately decided now was the time to take advantage of Aymeric’s distraction and hooked his hand with her paw, yanked it towards herself, and stuck her face in his mug, ears rapidly twitching in delight as she settled in to enjoy her spoils.
Aymeric’s expression quickly morphed into exasperated dismay, and Lucia and Synnove shared a look before leaning into each other’s shoulders to keep themselves upright as they burst into laughter.