Vesta exhales sharply, lifting a hand to her temples.

“Stars, why can’t anything be simple…” She mutters under her breath.

With a sigh, she straightens, drawing herself back into composure, arms crossing neatly over her chest.

“I suppose the tavern would suffice,” she says. “There aren’t many people hanging around because of the famine.”

She tilts her head and gives a small, dismissive shrug.

“Zukar and I are staying there. We could speak privately enough, I think.”
 

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