“Can you pass me the salt?” Quinn asked, stretching her hand towards Ana who response by simply giving her the container and sitting patiently to the side, watching Quinn intently with a tinge of surprise.

She can understand why, of course: nobody expects Quinn to be great at cooking. Decent, perhaps; good, even. But great would require to be a little less harsh and wicked in their eyes.

Though, clearly their presumption has no impact on her skill as she masterfully navigates the vast kitchen of the temple, using the ingredients available to them in the hope of impressing Ana further.

It reminds her to thank whoever it was that eat all of the food in the mess hall, allowing them to spend more time together in a setting that’s not her office or bedroom chamber.

Not that she hates spending time with her there, of course. She simply wants to spend a lot more of her life with the woman, possibly the rest of it if she can afford it.

With that in mind, she displays a few acrobatics for Ana, entertaining her as she continues making her third favorite dish in the hope of sharing them with the woman.

She would make her her top preference, but they don’t have the best cut of meat on hand, and Quinn rebuffs the idea to serve that kind of thing for the mouth that has given her so many pleasures, in a great many ways.

Refusing to let such a train of thought persist when she needs to focus entirely on the food, Quinn shakes her head and seeks distraction somewhere else; hoping it will be less wildly passionate than the images in her psyche.

“So, Ana,” she begins, still stirring the vegetables on the wok carefully. “Any reason you seek me out for breakfast today?” Hoping Ana will follow on the pleasant but ultimately meaningless and low stake conversation.

Unfortunately, Ana was never one for meaningless and low stake conversation. Quinn doesn’t know how the woman does it, though she’s sure her uptight attitude and upright posture reminiscence of military members aren’t helpful.

“I wanted to share a table with you,” she says with a straight face, disbarring Quinn from even teasing her honesty. “With my romantic partner, is that not what people do?” Easily turning the table.

It forces an embarrassed chuckle out of Quinn before she can answer: “It is!” Widening her smile, tracing after the flow of the conversation still. “Why? Aren’t you one of those people?” Poking harmless fun at her while she was at it.

However, Ana doesn’t seem to share her thinking. The woman was silent for a long time, sinking deep in thought clearly triggered by Quinn’s question. Until finally, she whispers her response: “I’m presumably not.” Unsure.

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“That kind of person?” Quinn asked, worries creasing her brows.

And Ana obliges her an answer: “Any kind of person, Quinn.”

The counter and the surety by which she said it gave Quinn pause. The woman is serious, that much is obvious, and that makes Quinn feel terrible. Despite that, her instinctual reaction to outright deny it must be quenched, she doesn’t know the woman enough to persuade her out of that strong belief she clearly held for herself.

Which is why she takes her time, turning off the stove and putting the dishes on the table before she dares make a move.

The moment she sits down, she picks up a spoonful of her stir-fried vegetables and offer it to Ana in silence, with only a vague smirk playing on her lips to clue Ana to how serious Quinn is on her offer.

When Ana takes it, Quinn grins widen. “I think you’re one of the most—if indeed not—the kindest and most resplendent person I ever have the pleasure to meet, Ana.” Delivering her own judgment with no trickery or sarcasm dripping in the word.

Ana doesn’t respond, but she nods as she takes her own plate, beginning their breakfast in earnest soon before lunch. Their conversation flows easily, then, with Quinn apparently free enough to accompany her throughout the day the instant Ana mention the fact that she has no private meeting to host today.

As the days passed and became shorter and shorter, the time they spent together became longer and longer. None of them are ashamed of each other anymore, their relationships becoming an open secret to the temple and the whole battlement.

This has caused a few members of the soldiery to look at Quinn with obvious jealousy in their eyes, a circumstance that she has used entirely to her benefit and entertainment as she playfully mocks them each chance she gets, daring them to do something drastic about their predicament.

On the opposite site of the army they’re stationed with are Ana’s colleagues, who all offers them both congratulations and wishes of happy days ahead with an expression earnest and voice lacking deceit, it made Quinn wonders if any of them ever actually lie to achieve their goal.

A curiosity that is easily answered by how frank Ana was throughout the day, and how honest her reaction is at night. A reaction she unfortunately has to wait a bit longer to see tonight, for Ana has a sudden meeting that evening.

Though, encouragingly; she knew exactly where this clandestine meeting of hers was being held, considering she deliver Ana there herself. And if Ana desire her as much as she yearns for the woman, then surely she won’t be opposed to find Quinn outside of the conference room discussion.

Accompanied by such a bright idea, Quinn marches out of her door with spring in her steps, finding little need for skulduggery when people have known of their relationships for weeks now.

There’s nothing weird about her leaning against the wall, occasionally catching hushed conversation behind the enchanted double door, the charm not being good enough to dispel Quinn’s own.

Nor is the screaming helpful.

“She’s trying to kill you, Matriarch! That has always been her plan!”

“Do you have proof of this?”

“Yes, we’ve managed to intercept a letter addressed to her by a person we suspect to be the Crown Prince of Adelheid.”

Quinn’s eye widen in horror as she takes a step back, only one thought reverberates through her mind: I need to run.

She has failed herself, in large part due to her employer impatience, but she’s unsuccessful nonetheless. She can invent excuses and taste regret later before investigating the reasoning behind her failures and crafting a way to overcome it soon after.

For now, she must run like the fool that she is.

After all, there’s nothing to love about a worm.