And somewhere lions roam, quite unaware,
in their magnificence, of any weaknesss.
in their magnificence, of any weaknesss.
We’ll see about that, she says. I do not mind; she is not the only one dissatisfied with easy prey.
I am pleased to have pegged her correctly, if only on the basis of the whispers surrounding her at that moment. It’s called diplomacy. “Where I am from, they call diplomacy the death of pleasure.” I know it is out of context and even noncommittal; but she may take it however she likes. I am not ashamed to admit I descend from warmongers and soldiers who, if they were not soldiers, would have been killers or nothing. It is a war that gives purpose, I suppose; and diplomacy is the end of war, too.
Oh, I am never reckless.
I would be a liar if I were to say her answer didn’t disappoint me. When the waiter offers another set of drinks, I take one; but it is to drink languidly, with leisure. I appraise her over the glass as I take a drink. “What a shame,” I say, but the comment is softened with an edge of playfulness. If I were to know her thoughts, I might think we were, perhaps, more alike than outward appearances would suggest.
I am not reckless in the traditional sense, either.
And you, Torix?
“Oh, I don’t give that story away for free.” The smile is still playful, I know; but there is an edge now. I step closer; our proximity has gone abruptly from polite to intimate. “But, perhaps, we could change that. Do something reckless with me tonight, Anandi. You choose what, if you are so bold.” There is a bit of goading; a bit of challenge.
“Or,” I suggest, more quietly. “We could simply dance.”
