[There's a tiny little twist in the pit of her stomach, a little jump that's always there whenever someone innocently mentions the seasons. It's the sort of tell she's long since learned not to show, but showing and feeling are two very different things.
Outwardly, she's calm, but all of a sudden her nerves are starting to buzz, drawing out of the sleepy contentment she'd been settling into as she starts to pay careful attention again, the way she always does when she senses something coming, something important.]
I guess you're right. In spring it'd be more like fifty-fifty, but these days it's light late. That's...not a spring phenomenon.
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[There's a tiny little twist in the pit of her stomach, a little jump that's always there whenever someone innocently mentions the seasons. It's the sort of tell she's long since learned not to show, but showing and feeling are two very different things.
Outwardly, she's calm, but all of a sudden her nerves are starting to buzz, drawing out of the sleepy contentment she'd been settling into as she starts to pay careful attention again, the way she always does when she senses something coming, something important.]
I guess you're right. In spring it'd be more like fifty-fifty, but these days it's light late. That's...not a spring phenomenon.