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    Summary

    “Why must you encourage him?” Lucanis responds, glancing over at Rook. It’s less of a question than it is a sigh of a man who has already resigned himself to the fate of mediating such conversations. “He is already a nuisance whenever you come near.” She sucks her cheeks in, hoping they aren't burning as red as they feel. “Cállate , Spite! I'll… I will tell her. You may not.” His head drops and hands still in the basin. A heavy slightly annoyed sigh leaves him. “He says you smell like honey and oranges.”

    “Spite, what have we told you about announcing how people smell?” she chides without looking up from the plate she's drying. “Most find it a tad off putting.”

    “Me especially,” Lucanis chimes in.

    She peeks over to find him averting his eyes, intensely pretending to focus on the dishes in the basin. “That being said, I'm glad you noticed,” she continues. Their arms touch when she leans toward him as if she's talking directly to Spite on his opposite side. It stops his movements dead. “I did wash my hair. Had to get all the blight gunk out of it.”

    ---

    I wanted to imagine something happened after Lucanis made a whole dessert for Rook.

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