Vesta drops into a practiced curtsy, graceful and precise. When she rises, she offers him a faint smile.

“Yes,” she says, smoothing her skirts. “I was hoping to get your opinion on something. Perhaps even your assistance.”

Her gaze drifts about the room, noting the other members present.

“It is quite a delicate matter, however.” She lowers her voice. “I would prefer not to make a spectacle of it.”

She pauses briefly, then asks, “Would it be possible to use one of the warded rooms?”

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