[ The slight hesitation before the other woman moves to assume a seat beside her is something that does not escape her notice — and for the first time since Herian arrived, she begins to wonder exactly how much pain has persisted and what could have occurred to leave her in such prolonged discomfort.

The wine will help, to an extent, depending on how much of it she consumes, leaving the body in more of a relaxed state to accept touch, but the state of injury won't become apparent until they're in a more private place to enable removal of more layers. ]

Roles we are meant to play. Or ones that have been assigned to us, whether we agree with them or not.

[ She breathes a small laugh, considering the contents of her glass for a moment, and then lifts the cup to her lips for a measured sip. ]

I suppose in some cases, it may be better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.