Celeste looked smug as hell.
As Ashara gazed back at her, Celeste gave her the most shit-eating grin she'd seen on the woman.
[Okay. Either I'm about to have a really good day or a really bad one.]
"You look happy," Ashara said. She was sitting cross-legged on the padded floor, wrapping her hands. "Should I be worried?"
"Possibly." Celeste walked over carrying a stack of papers and set them down on the floor between them. "I had a breakthrough."
Ashara picked up the top sheet.
On it, drawn in clean black ink, were stick figures. One was mid-kick, leg extended, body turned. The next showed the same figure flowing into a low sweep. The third had it rising into a punch, momentum carrying upward from the legs through the torso.
"Did you draw these?"
"I did."
"They're cute."
Celeste took the paper back.
