The morning plates were still rattling into the wash tub when the child stepped around the pantry door, holding a folded napkin against her waist with both hands.
Hajin was drying his fingers by the scullery archway, working the towel around the fingers of his injured hand without pulling on the stiff pathways in his arm.
She looked toward the corner where Loccy was stacking empty jam jars, then shifted her gaze directly to his face before anyone else could offer her another sweet roll.
"Breakfast ended," she said, her voice remaining quiet and distinct beneath the splash of hot rinse water.
"It did," Hajin replied, tossing the damp towel onto the drying rack beside the doorway while keeping his posture relaxed.
"You said we could talk about the question after breakfast."
"I did, and I keep my word."
She nodded once, a sharp little motion of her chin that sent a stray lock of silver-violet hair sliding across her chipped left horn.
