divinestrike | Overflow / Open Post

It was very sweet of him to ask and for some breaths, she simply gazed at him, as if her eyes could say everything she was declining from outright expressing. She supposed in many ways, she was considerably better with looks than she was with words. When she worded, she was likely to trip over tongue and appear the fool, which was all well and good in some situations, but not as many as she oft found herself to be in.

"No," she began rather simply and for some moments, it seemed as though that was where she meant to leave it. And then she decided he deserved something a little more. With the very same light smile, though perfectly warm and sincere, which was so much nicer than the diplomacy she sometimes felt she had to wield, Nepione shook her head at him, moving her attention onto the way he pointed.

"That is, we don't need to see them. We write, occasionally. That's good enough for me. I'm more interested in taking the rest of you to wherever it may be that you'd like to go. Or need to, as the case might be." Baldur's Gate, in general, was not a leisure trip for her and she didn't want it to be, but she didn't mind taking advantage of the situation to learn just a touch more about those she had been travelling with.

A moment's pause more and she paused for just a breath before she fiddled with her hands. "...It's very kind of you to ask, Gale. I appreciate it."

They’d lulled to a stop by a crossroads while they spoke, waiting for a heavily-laden cart to trundle by. Gale’s hand half-raised, an aborted movement towards her, uncertain of what to do, before he gave in and pressed his fingers against Nepione’s shoulder — echoing her earlier gesture, perhaps. There was something to seeing her look so uncomfortable and diminished, which made him immediately want to reach out and bridge that gap.

“But if we’ve come so far and managed to make our way to the city after so many trials and tribulations, then what’s a little detour? It’s rare enough to come all this way, and—”

(and they didn’t know if they’d survive the next week)

“and, well, you wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to see them again, if— you know. Unless,” a more mortifying thought had now occurred to him, “unless it’s a sore point and you’d really rather not see them at all. I’m aware not everyone has a copacetic relationship with their family members. Not everyone can be the inimitable Morena Dekarios! So if that’s the case, then, please, you need say no more and I’ll promptly stop shoving my foot in my mouth, post-haste.”

It was a brave thing of him, she suspected, to do such a thing. She understood well enough that she neither provided the opportunity, nor did she necessarily make herself seem available or willing to accept such things. It was always different if she did it. For whatever reason, it was always different if someone else did it. Or maybe she made it different. She could believe that.

The moment he made contact, she was willing to put aside their immediate shopping adventure. Devoting her attention to him, she listened to the way he spoke, carefully trying to take in what he wasn't giving voice to. Or how she thought he might have been skirting around what he truly meant.

Unless...?

Wordlessly, she urged him to continue with the raising of her eyebrows, though she was patient and did not push. On the contrary, listening to him go over all of possibilities right then and there. When he got going, he got going.

After a moment's consideration, she lifted a hand to settle over his and then with some care she removed it, though it wasn't to separate them. Instead, she took his hand between her own, careful of the way she held it. "You're really very cute when you fret," she praised him with her own form of reassurance. Perhaps she was trying to distract him. "I would hesitate to refer to them as family. It's true they took me in, but I wasn't one of their kind and sometimes that was very evident. It was a unique situation, but nothing you need to worry about. Haven't you enough burdens of your own? Brave that you think you should carry mine as well."

Gale’s gaze instinctively flitted down to where her hands curled over his. He didn’t shy away from the touch; felt himself considering it and leaning into it, in fact, having gone without for the entire past year that he’d cooped himself up in his tower. (And that lone word, cute, innocent as it was, made something squirm inside him — not the tadpole, this time! — as if he were a tongue-tied student once more. It was something warmer, some somersaulting twist in his lungs which he hadn’t felt in so long.)

“Friends ought to share each others’ burdens,” is what he finally settled on. “At least, that’s what Tara always told me.”

Yes, this is a man who takes life advice from his cat, what of it.

“An equal partnership, a team. We all do our share to help carry each others’ burdens. Lae’zel with the creche, Shadowheart at the Gauntlet… we’ve all been there for each other, and you should be no exception. And on a personal note, Nepione, I’ve already dropped so much in your lap that the very least I could do is repay the favour. I would frankly be delighted to; it would mean that I’m more than that burden, more than a walking imposition devouring all your magical items.” There was a crinkle at the corner of his eyes; a faint half-smile, self-effacing.

Not for the first time, Tara's wisdom found its way into her life. Somehow very befitting a companion for a man like Gale who had his own plethora of navigational things to say. Although she objectively agreed, something about hearing it was difficult. Maybe because unlike so many situations that she could simply sidestep or distract, she did not feel protected from how gently pointed and truly affectionate such ideas were.

A little sliver of uncertainty parked at the small of her back as she carefully took in all he had to say, as if each was a fragile piece of glass that she thought too precious to be held in hands like hers.

"You were never a burden," she began, as though that was truly the most important thing to address. "You never have been. Not a single one of you." Difficult at times and even dangerous, certainly, but never a burden. Nepione could determine with relative ease that when it came to all of them, she had done precisely as she meant to. She would do it all again, if given the opportunity.

Dropping her gaze onto his hand and the way she held it, the incredibly tender way she dusted thumb along the back, she knew she couldn't say what she really thought. What she really felt. There would never be a time for it and the last thing she wanted to do was to give any of them cause for concern.

"You've all looked to me, yes?" Nepione continued, a small smile tugging at her lips. "From time to time, for support and protection. An ill-placed leadership, even. It's my place to look after all of you. To take care of you where I can. That's where I would like to be. What I've gotten through all of this is so much more than I could even appropriately say. There were never any favours or debts owed, but if there had been, standing here now in this moment, in this time, such things would have been paid back in excess."

“You’re—” Gale found himself struggling to respond for a moment, overwhelmed. Where some might have been skittish and shied away from such kindness, he embraced it like a parched man being handed a glass of water. “Nepione, are you certain you never wanted to continue a career into the bardic arts with a performance troupe? Because you possess the remarkable ability to say exactly the right thing. My own meager poetry scribbling in my tower could never compare. You’re a marvel.”

The wizard was quick and easy with compliments; perhaps a little too flowery and grandiose with them, but it was always earnest, always equally heartfelt. He was accustomed to painting in broad strokes, with bare-faced emotional honesty.

And yet this, this was why they let Nepione handle so much of the public negotiation with strangers: her ability to pluck the heartstrings, appealing to people, managing to persuade them, when Gale suspected he’d just shove his foot in his mouth if he tried, and Lae’zel would likely shove her fist through their face.

“So. Then, consider all talk of debts and ledgers and favours erased. Instead, I’ll implore you to simply allow us to look after you in turn, even if it’s only every so often, even if you prefer not to be perceived. Because after all, I,” a stutter-stop, quickly glazing over that phrasing, “we care for you greatly.”

She wasn't, really. It took almost all of her restraint to proverbially crush down the protest that immediately wanted to propel its way out of her. Maybe she was just genuinely incapable of handling a compliment. Whatever was behind that was certainly a lot to unpack and not a weight she should have been putting onto the courageous shoulders of an ambitious wizard.

Despite not arguing with him and simply letting his words fall where they were inclined to, she suspected her expression—for at least some moments or two—must have given her away. She could have nervously cleared her throat or simply laughed it off, but she didn't do either of those things either. Maybe at the very least, she could don something very humble. Not a dismissal of his generous perception of her, but not a full concession either.

"Sometimes I can say the right thing," she corrected him very gently. "But only sometimes. Perhaps only when it truly counts for something."

For she certainly knew not all of her attempts to use her words had been successful ones. On the contrary, she'd put them through more trouble than they should have as a result of her somewhat stubborn approach to things. There were just some that heartfelt conversation didn't work on, even when it came from someone like Nepione who was too transparent for her own good.

His little self-correction hardly went unnoticed either. Whether that was an indicator of his feelings where she was concerned (for she'd had no plans to ask and thought herself relatively ill-suited for such... things), or whatever else it could have been, she could only speculate. The notion of the former, however, threatened her breath to catch in her throat. Almost imperceptibly, her hands tightened upon his before she carefully lifted it and held it to the consistent thump of her pulse, perhaps a touch quickened by thought and words alike.

"I... would not wish to cause you concern," she admitted, dropping her gaze a bit bashfully, colour dotting along her features. "Or the others." Right. The others. Important to say that part. "I'm not very good at letting others take care of me. Of letting others care for me. About me. At all. I will... try to be better about that." But she would not, could not make him any such promise.

Gale noticed that telling lack of a firm promise, but he let it slide, accepting that he couldn’t push Nepione too far too quickly. Change took time.

“I’m gathering as much,” he said, eyes crinkling into a smile. “Myself, I had to learn early on in life to let others take care of me. My mother and Tara are both deeply aggressive about it. They’ll get in your business, ask you a million questions, tidy up after you, feed you until you’re stuffed, then feed you some more; it does take some adjustment but you can get accustomed to that sort of thing, given time.”

He was getting derailed. It was so easy for Gale to derail himself, happily chattering away about his family, but he eventually reined himself in like hauling back the reins on a distracted horse. Instead, he now found himself watching the tilt of Nepione’s head, the dip of her jaw. It was fascinating seeing the way the blush spread on her blue skin, resulting in a particularly fetching shade of amethyst —

Well. Anyway.

“And,” he added wryly, “in fairness, our entire group is already well-beyond concern, so what’s a little more?”

She laughed a little, feeling substantially better when he was inclined to speak of his own family. His mother and Tara both always sounded so lovely. She wondered how different of a person she might have been if she had been around such things herself. But that was a silly thing to go thinking about. She was here in the now, not years behind her. She could only look at the present and the future. Wherever it took her.

"They both sound wonderful," she replied quietly. "Your mother. And Tara. I'm glad that you've had them to take such good care of you. You need that. Deserve it." As much as the others did, though there were those of them who didn't have that, she suspected. Gale was, in a way, one of the lucky ones, it seemed.

With some reluctance, she finally returned his hand to him, though could not help hesitating when she did. She would have rather liked to hold it, she thought. Without it, she felt just a touch colder. Clearing her throat somewhat nervously, she covered it was another laugh, softer the second time around.

"Even so," she reassured him. "I wouldn't be a very good leader if you were taking care of me. And if you did such a thing, what would I do? I'm not sure I know how to be anything other than a caretaker, as sad as that might sound. I don't know what to do with myself when you or the others no longer need me."

As Nepione returned his hand to him, palms pressed to his chest before she withdrew, she could briefly feel that curious pulsing warmth from the orb — nowhere near as searing as Karlach’s skin, of course, but more like a bed warmer ebbed to a low heat. (Or a livid infection.)

And as she spoke, Gale listened, brow crinkled in thought. This was very complicated issue. Perhaps suited for one of those new-fangled alienists in Waterdeep who wanted to sit you down and listen to you discuss your problems; or even one of those kindly clerics who would let you unburden your soul with them. Gale himself didn’t feel particularly qualified —

But it was worth tackling, without merely waving her off and dodging the subject and continuing on to market. He wanted to address it first, even if it was the pair of them standing by the side of the road and letting the occasional cart rumble by, a sidestep out of the way of splashing water and mud.

“What were you doing before the Nautiloid? And what would you like to do?” he asked. “Once this is all over and you have a moment to yourself.”

It was a question he’d been chewing over, too, although he struggled to come up with an answer. A slow withering death or a quick explosive one, radiant with purpose, a heroic end for the history books. The latter sounded far preferable to the former.

But he was still looking at her, his blue eyes attentive.

"Well—"

She realised she wasn't inclined to offer up an immediate response. Not because she didn't have an answer. She did. Mostly it came from just a breath of hesitance. Maybe the concern from what the reception could be like, though that seemed silly. Gale wasn't going to judge her. Probably.

"Hm. Before the rest of us met, I was travelling on my own. I'll probably go back to doing that after everything."

Provided she survived. That seemed too dark to say, however. Better not to go down that pathway. "I guess I've gotten a little comfortable with everyone. I haven't done that with others. This travelling thing. I'm enjoying it. There's a part of me that will miss it."

Then she smiled and she gave him a very gentle push atop the small of his back. "But that's for a later time. And it's my problem, not yours. So let's focus on you, shall we? Or us, if you prefer."

If she flustered him, he'd stop asking about her, she suspected.

Et tu, Nepione Taveia?

But Gale had been captured by that answer, admitting, “I’m enjoying it, too. Much to my surprise. I’ve been a homebody for such a long time — shut up in my tower for longer than I can recall — that it’s been lovely getting out and about. Not being alone. Seeing more of the Sword Coast, breathing fresh air, going for a healthy constitutional, running up and down hills, meeting interesting new people, occasionally having to kill them.”

A little tongue-in-cheek; he had a dry sense of humour which crept out occasionally, self-effacing.

“So… we could, if you were so inclined,” he continued, tiptoeing his way through the offer, “make a pact. Not of the infernal soul-binding type, but rather— Once this is all said and done, no matter if the others disperse to the winds, we could still travel with each other. And whoever else would like to. See the sights! Whatever we feel like doing. Write some restaurant reviews and a tourist’s guide to Faerûn. It’d be better than whatever that hack Volo publishes, certainly.”

How lonely it must have been for him in that tower. She'd thought it before, not daring to touch upon something that seemed so terribly delicate. Not that Gale would have wanted to hear it. The man was certainly capable of handling his own. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. She ought not to have treated him as though he was fragile.

All the same, she could understand the appeal. Being among people he felt comfortable with must have been a pleasant change of scenery—in more ways than one. For just a breath or two, she wondered what he was inclined to do at the end of their little journey. Up until he continued, anyway.

With her hand gently resting at where she'd meant to encourage him along, she simply listened to his... Well. She would have called it a proposition of sorts. One that she had not been prepared to hear. He wanted to travel with her? With... just her? It... certainly sounded lovely. Company was always nice on the road, as she'd come to discover. To have answered him with haste might have given the wrong impression. That she didn't give him the consideration that he deserved.

"Really?" she asked him, as much as she tried to avoid that question in particular. "You'd want to do that with me?" Of course he would have. He wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it. His ideas were nice ones, too. She wouldn't have minded visiting restaurants or simply touring the continent. Although writing wasn't really her forte. She could probably leave that to him.

"Gale, that's... Well. I guess if you haven't tired of me yet..." She huffed out a breath and with it, a quiet little laugh. "Selûne preserve me," Nepione replied with a hushed murmur. "I wasn't prepared to hear any of that. Forgive me. I'm not usually so tongue-tied."

If we’re both still alive, mind, Gale thinks, and almost says, the words tripping blithely off his tongue — but thankfully he manages to avert his blabbermouth in the very nick of time. It’s a blessing, occasionally, that Nepione’s bardic spells are so scattershot and she isn’t able to detect his thoughts. He’s too accustomed to shoving his foot firmly in his mouth even at the best of times.

“Ah, well, then I can blather on for the both of us,” he says warmly. “I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are, but with you? Of course. Anytime. I know it was blind circumstance that initially threw us together, but I enjoy your company, and it’s far preferable to the empty road or an empty tower. You make an unbearable situation bearable. After all our group has been through together, I can’t imagine simply— parting ways, toodle-oo, so long and thanks for all the tadpoles, immediately haring off in opposite directions the first moment we can. Perhaps I’m just a sentimental fool, but.”

"You make an unbearable situation bearable."

Those words bounced around in her head for a few moments, lingering, touching, weighted. Sweet. The kinds of words that only continued to make her nervous through no one's fault but her own. That was what she'd wanted to do, of course. To make things bearable. Enjoyable. Comfortable.

Clearing her throat, she released a soft laugh. "I'm not sure how much the others might say the same, but I can understand the feeling. I'm a bit sentimental myself. I didn't imagine travelling with anyone, but I don't dislike the idea."

Looking at him a little more closely, as if she was still giving his offer consideration, the cleric finally nodded. "Very well, then. At the end of all of this, provided things end favourably, we'll travel together. We can do whatever you'd like. Whatever we'd like. I'm not sure I could ask for better company. Even if he does seem to be remarkably good at flustering me."

Said the woman who was likely too easily flustered in general.

Gale brightened when she finally accepted. “Well! Then you’re in good company. We’ll both be flustered messes.”

He had been the one making the offer, technically, but this was a lifeline for him, too: imagining a potential future for himself. Daring himself to make actual plans with someone, rather than seeing nothing else for himself but eventually dying in a conflagration. (Divination magic wasn’t his specialty, and even then, he’d been too nervous to peer into a sliver of the future. Too worried that he would try and only see blank black emptiness. A dead end.)

So he took a deep breath, and extended one hand for a formal handshake. “It’s an agreement, then. A sacred compact.”

As he grasped her palm again, she could feel that hand wasn’t rough from wielding heavy swords or axes or pulling bowstrings; instead there’s a knobbly writer’s callus on one finger, and a few healed burns from errant fire spells gone awry. The physical marks of a wizard’s life lived.

“And it’s good,” he said, “to have something to look forward to.”

It didn’t even need to be a grand promise or a great expectation. Just a good friend, by his side. That was enough, and more than what he’d had before.

"That we will," she murmured softly, though wondered if it was only more enjoyable to catch him unawares than it was for her to be in the self-same situation.

Nepione watched as he offered his hand and as they touched, hand to hand, she committed it to memory. The first time had been an idle fancy. Fleeting time where she had not thought so much on it. This one would have to be something considerably more of import. A memory made as much as it was a contract of sorts. Or perhaps it was merely her own sentimentality that bid her to do such a thing.

"A sacred compact."

His words lingered and stained in a beautiful way as she acquainted herself more properly with what she could glean from the simple act of his hand, something she suspected she'd never given much thought to. Perhaps because it was a rarity that another sought to touch her, aside from the tiefling heart that was all too soft.

Something in his words made her smile and she found herself squeezing his hand with both mirth and reassurance. "Have faith. There are a great many things to look forward to. Not only our adventures. The taste of freedom. A destiny that you will be able to guide and direct as you have want to. I will do all I can to see you prosper."

Not just him, either. All of them. She suspected there was so very little she wouldn't have done to achieve something that seemed so tremendously ambitious.

“Good,” Gale said, gripping Nepione’s hand a little too long — this did feel more portentous than their previous touch, weighted with all the import he could infuse into the moment — before letting go.

He cleared his throat. “Onward, then, to our original errand?”

None of this conversation was what he’d expected. The day started to become a little more normal as they approach Rivington Market: Gale took the lead, weaving through the meager stalls, occasionally muttering to himself about how this paled in comparison to the exotic spice markets of Waterdeep, also apparently the war on the Absolute was hell on trade routes, all of the fresh produce was limp and a little wilted and too expensive besides, what a sorry excuse for grocers —

But his griping and grumbling aside, he still seemed to be enjoying himself.

“This is so much better than scrounging up stale bread from our enemies’ abandoned storerooms,” he said. They were finally at a point where they could afford buying a better quality of supplies, these days. “Do you have any favourite cuisines? Any preferred snacks or beloved desserts?”

As she followed after him, Wizard of Waterdeep with his ever discerning tastes, most of her observation came with amusement. He was so particular about everything. Not a bad thing by any means. It meant he knew what he wanted and she had to admit that it was an admirable trait. At least when set down in comparison by hers. When it came to stalls and markets and inventory, she'd grown up with not much that it was almost luxurious. Considering how very not luxurious it was in the broader spectrum, Nepione had to admit that her own perspective must have been skewed a bit.

Beyond that, however, as she trailed behind him, in the back of her mind, she thought about what had brought them to the present moment, and the little sliver of tension (or what she was going to consider tension) that seemed to settle right in her chest. Nothing unpleasant. Simply... present.

Regardless of whatever little comments Gale had to make, however, he didn't seem to absolutely hate going through everything, so perhaps he was simply filling in any potential silence between them. If that were case, was it because she made him nervous, or was it because that was simply the way he was? No. No, he definitely just enjoyed conversation. He had at least a year to make up for it, despite whatever ongoing talks he'd had with Tara whilst he was isolated.

Nepione could only smile softly, a little charmed (as ever she had been by him), as she listened in on his judgement and individual assessments. When he thought to ask of her own wants, which should have been somewhat simple to answer, the cleric found herself pausing, a bit caught by surprise.

"Hm..." she began thoughtfully, her gaze looking over a variety of spices with subdued interest. No cooking talent in her, she could only guess what any of them might have been used for. How they enhanced food or how they didn't, she couldn't say. "You know, I've never had much in the way of desserts. Wasn't readily available to me when I was younger. I've mostly eaten fruit and cheeses and... fish? But I think especially like fruits and cheese. Not vegetables."

So basically, she had the diet of a child, apparently.

“Oh, if you like fruits and cheese, I can make a tremendous charcuterie board or mezze platter! Cured meats, artisanal cheeses, rosemary sea-salt crackers, with some pickled olives on the side. Grapes, perhaps some fried halloumi…”

Gale didn’t seem to mind or even remark on her childish palate; he was clearly daydreaming about the possibilities now, a little wistful. He had no idea if he could even get halloumi in this corner of the Sword Coast. Likely not.

So he relented to realism a moment later, grudgingly, “Some of that might have to wait until another day, when this war with the Absolute ends, or perhaps if we ever make it to Waterdeep. But if you’ve truly never had dessert, then I need to remedy that post-haste. Vasilopita cake, for example, is simple enough; families often have their own recipe for it, and ours uses oranges. It’s a cake served at midnight at the end of Wintershield, at the start of a new year — traditionally after baking it, you insert a coin through the base, and whoever finds the coin in their slice of cake is said to be granted luck for the rest of the year. I know it’s not the new year yet, technically, but I think this would still feel appropriate. Turning over a new leaf, so to speak. Hoping for luck.”

Browsing the stalls, testing the firmness and ripeness of the various fruits they passed, he finally stopped his cheerful ramblings and cocked his head, contemplative. Glanced over at Nepione.

“You know,” he said, “I haven’t actually had the opportunity to cook for others for a while, until our motley little group. Being a Chosen, living half in the astral plane, one gets accustomed to nourishment simply… appearing, magically, or ordering it delivered simply because you can. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed cooking with real ingredients.”

He got so carried away almost immediately that Nepione had a difficult time controlling the transparency in her expression. That said, a fancy charcuterie sounded nice. Hells, everything he made mention of did. It didn't take her much time to entertain the notion of a quiet night in somewhere with a fire, some mulled wine, and something incredibly relaxing.

That would have been superb. If only it wasn't a fantasy living up inside of her head. She didn't think dealing with the threat of the Absolute was going to make it any closer to a reality either. If she ever found herself in a situation like it, she doubted she'd know how to handle it. Such things required a social grace that the tiefling just didn't have.

Of course, entirely different if she were alone. Maybe that would have to be the way.

Tagging along closely, she listened to him rattle on about cake with the same interest as she had each time he spoke of the Weave, his relationship with Elminster, Tara, and his days in Waterdeep.

"I don't know a thing about baking, so all of that sounds delicious and complicated. Deliciously complicated? Wouldn't mind watching you make something. I could try to help, but that might just give you more problems to deal with." Not that it seemed as though he would particularly dislike that. Maybe she was the good kind of problem. When he continued, touched by what she would have considered nostalgia, she smiled gently.

"If you're looking for more excuses to cook, I don't think you need to look any further. You can make food for me anytime. Otherwise, I'll just eat wedges of cheese and raw fruit." Which... was what she was already doing. But she seemed to be fine, so it was probably a healthier diet than most people would have expected of someone who enjoyed running herself constantly ragged.

Mama Dekarios, evidently, wasn’t the only person who felt the need to feed the people they cared about. He was realising a little of that similarity as their conversation went on, and he gave a thoughtful hm as Nepione smiled. (Gale’s love language is acts of service and let’s not examine that too closely.)

“An excellent plan, then,” he eventually declared. “You can be my sous-chef and my taste tester. It’ll be much better than wincing our way through rotten apples. Even now, I think, our collective purse can afford better ingredients; I’d rather use it to bake a cake for you than to buy yet another spellbook I’m going to read and never use, anyhow.”

He said it carelessly, offhand, scooping ingredients into his arms, not thinking much of the offer — but it hinted at how much he valued Nepione, a subtle readjustment which he hadn’t quite articulated until this moment. Shifting his priorities from accruing more magic to baking a simple new year’s cake instead, all just for the delight of seeing her smile.

She only scarcely knew the meaning of 'sous-chef' and though she very much wanted to remind him that she likely wasn't going to be of much use, Nepione somehow managed to refrain from just such a thing. Taste testing, on the other hand, she could do masterfully at. There was nothing difficult about eating something and issuing judgement on whether it was 'good' or 'bad' (despite how very subjective such a thing was).

"I don't see why we can't get some nicer ingredients and spellbooks for you," she pointed out with some consideration. "Who says that anyone should just be limited by a single thing?" Nepione shook her head, thinking about all of the times she would have been somewhat put out if she was forced to start making decisions.

Not that it hadn't happened before. It had, of course. In the truly important situations, she had no problems making the truly difficult decisions. It was mostly the ones that were relatively unimportant in the grand spectrum of things that was more of a challenge. She wasn't about to boast regarding indecision, however. It was considerably better simply to see very open-minded.

"Let's get both. Don't spend everything we have on ingredients. We can have our cake and books."

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