Chapter 402: silence

They ate in near silence after that, with only the occasional comment on the food, and gradually the silence stopped being so awkward and became something else.

Lor ate steadily.

He was a boy who was hungry and spent his strength freely, and after the third bite of lamb he gave up on manners.

He tore the bread with his hands.

He wiped the plate with a crust. He had the second slice of pheasant before he realised he had not breathed between bites.

The food was rich and warm. The wine sauce clung to the meat. He was full in a way he had not been in days.

Nellie ate with small, neat motions.

A spoonful, a sip of tea, a bite of tart cut with the side of her fork.

Her back stayed straight. She never once let the spoon touch the rim of the bowl.

But her eyes kept coming back to Lor across the table, and each time they did, the corner of her mouth lifted. She had stopped trying to hide it.

Under the table, her thighs were still pressed together.

The dried cum on her stocking pulled slightly when she shifted.

He noticed finally, and looked up with his mouth full. "What?"

"Nothing," she said. "You look happy."

"It’s good food."

"I know."

He went back to the lamb. A few moments later, Nellie leaned over the table with her hand outstretched.

"You have a little," she said, and touched the corner of his mouth.

Her finger came away with a smear of wine sauce on the tip.

Lor opened his mouth to say thank you, and she lifted her finger to her own lips, tasted it, and slid it clean between them with a soft, unhurried pull.

Her tongue flicked against the pad of her finger.

She held his gaze the whole time.

Lor stared at her with a piece of lamb halfway to his mouth.

She returned to her tart, still pink and perfectly calm.

He said nothing. He had nothing to say.

After a long, quiet moment, he put the lamb in his mouth and went on eating. The taste of the sauce was still on her finger.

He could see the faint shine of it on her lower lip.

By the time the last tart was gone, the pheasant was bones, the lamb was a memory, and Lor’s belt felt a notch tighter.

He leaned back against the velvet with a long, contented groan and rubbed his stomach.

"That was perfect," he said.

"I’m glad." Nellie put down her cup. She folded her napkin into a neat square and set it beside her plate. Then her eyes drifted, very casually, toward the brass lever beside the table.

She was waiting.

She was waiting for him to say that there was still something left.

Any reason at all to keep the lamp red for another hour, and to keep him here with her in the warm gold light, with the door shut and the whole evening still ahead of them.

Her fingers had already crept toward the lever.

All she needed was one word.

Lor stretched, yawned, and stood up.

"I’m done," he said. "I’m stuffed. I don’t think I could eat anything else."

Her hand stopped before it touched the brass.

"Oh," Nellie said. She drew it back into her lap.

For a second her face lost its polish and showed something small and disappointed underneath, and then she smiled and nodded. "Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed it."

She rang the little bell on the table.

A different attendant appeared a moment later with a flat tray and a folded slip of paper, and Nellie took the slip, read it without a flicker, and counted coins out of her purse into the tray.

Lor opened his mouth to protest.

"It’s my treat," she said, before he could speak. "I said so this morning."

He closed his mouth again.

The attendant bowed and slid the screen back.

They walked out through a hall of lamps, past other doors with their own little lights, some red, some green.

A man in a merchant’s coat nodded at Nellie as they passed, and she nodded back politely without slowing.

Lor kept his eyes ahead and his expression blank.

Nellie’s braid swung against her back as she walked.

The street outside was washed in thin, clear afternoon sun.

Lor squinted.

The merchants’ row was busier than it had been when they went in, with carts rolling past, shutters banging open, and the smell of roasting nuts rising from a stall at the corner.

A clock tower in the distance struck four.

"It’s four already," Nellie said, surprised.

"We were in there a while."

She went pink again, and said nothing.

They walked.

They did not speak about what had happened, and by unspoken agreement they did not speak about the exam either, so they talked about the food, and the street, and a stray dog that followed them for half a block.

The tension of the cabin had gone out of Nellie’s shoulders.

Her braid swung gently.

Every so often her hand brushed his sleeve, perhaps by accident, and each time she looked straight ahead.

The sun was warm on the back of his neck.

The smell of the restaurant still clung faintly to their clothes.

"Thank you for lunch," Lor said. "And for... all of it."

"You don’t need to thank me." She said it quickly, and a little breathlessly. "I wanted to."

They reached the place where the road split.

One branch bent east toward the wealthy district, where the white houses stood behind their glass-paned gates and Nellie’s family lived.

The other ran south along the old canal toward the lanes where Lor’s house stood.

Nellie stopped at the fork and turned to face him. She held her purse in both hands.

"Well," she said. "This is where I go." She drew a breath.

"Good luck with the exams tomorrow, Lor. You’ll do wonderfully. Please... please take care of yourself. Eat properly. Sleep." She gave a small, wobbling smile.

"Goodbye."

She turned toward the east road.

"Nellie."

She stopped.

"Did you forget? Your guidance isn’t finished," Lor said.