The capital's streets were alive.
It's been around half an hour, since they made their way towards the cafe.
Alaric adjusted the weight of the paper-wrapped bundles under his arm, the leather bag slung over his other shoulder already filled to the brim.
His expression remained impassive, but the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed the truth.
"Brother," Elina's honeyed voice pulled his gaze down, "do you think the blue ribbon will suit me better? Or the green one?" She held up two nearly identical strips of silk in front of another milliner's mirror, tilting her head left, then right.
"They're the same," Alaric said, deadpanned.
"They are not the same," she countered sweetly, turning the blue against her hair, then the green. "Look closely. The weave is different, the sheen catches the light differently. Now don't be lazy, pay attention..." She trailed off, giving him an expectant look.
Alaric's stare remained flat.
