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Eodwine
“Hello, Eodwine. I guess you’ve been seeing everyone. A lot has changed here, has it not?”
Saeryn was looking at him as if at a stranger. Her shoulders were high, here face was tight, her eyes were intense, as if she were spoiling for a fight. Eodwine's tongue moved in his mouth as if it had a mind of its own, trying to find some way of escape from what he might say. He could not seem to relax his own demeanor. His mouth was tight, his own shoulders high. This was not good.
"Much," he said simply. "Come, please, to our rooms, just you and me."
He stopped a pace from her, raised his arm in a gesture indicating that she should lead the way. Their eyes were locked, mouths closed and lips narrowed. Eodwine was sure that every single cook, serving wench, hobbit, and woman recently from the Folde, could see that a fight was brewing. He hoped against hope that it could be set aside and the two of them could speak to each other calmly.
And she had better not insist that we talk right here, he thought.
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