Was this a joke of the universe?
Were the Fates getting off at this play—throwing Ewan in her face at every slightest opportunity? Were they that eager to make her unravel, to make her finally drag her hair in frustration?
And worse? He sat there, sipping from a mug—tea or whatever—as if she hadn't stepped in, as if he hadn't heard her voice, as if he hadn't heard her name, as if she wasn't even present.
Was this what they had come to? She wondered, still watching him, shock yet coloring her features and stance. This wasn't what she had in mind when she had told him to stop invading her space.
Couldn't they be friends? Couldn't he at least look at her with a smile, with a greeting, like before? Was it really all or nothing?
"Doctor Athena, are you okay? You can have your seat, please… Don't worry about my friend, he will be leaving soon."
A pause, where Damian kicked Ewan's foot. "Right about now."
