Erik found Penelope in the kitchen, quietly restocking the small shelf of preserved goods, and the question was already half-formed on his tongue by the time he crossed the room.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Always." She glanced up, setting a jar aside.
"Vanya thinks you've been careful around her. Distant, in a way that doesn't match how you are with everyone else." He watched her face closely as he said it. "Is that true?"
Penelope's hands stilled briefly over the shelf before she set the last jar down, something complicated crossing her expression. "It's true. I didn't realize it was obvious enough that she'd notice."
"She noticed. I hadn't, until she pointed it out." Erik leaned against the counter, patient, waiting. "Do you have something against her?"
