Vesta returns the smile, but it’s thinner now, carefully placed and not quite reaching her eyes. She leans forward and takes E’ni’cala’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You’re more than welcome to stay,” she says softly. “But if you’d rather go, I understand.” A heavy sigh slips from her.

“If I don’t keep myself distracted, I’m going to start overthinking. Or try to look in on it.” Her gaze drifts to the cabinet where she keeps her scrying materials. “I probably shouldn’t. It isn’t my place to intrude on matters that don’t concern me.”
Her fingers tighten slightly around E’ni’cala’s before she lets go.

“I’m sure whatever it is, Charlotte and Tristan will resolve it,” she says, aiming for confidence.

But the worry lingers in her expression, and her eyes keep flicking towards the door, as though she half expects him to walk back in at any moment.

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