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Genya has been still for a quarter of an hour, and she itches to move.
The itch is quite literal – her nose is begging to be scratched, and her fingers are twitching in her lap, but she tries her best to ignore the crawling of her skin. She presses her back flat against her headboard and returns to stillness, hoping that tonight will be the first time that she catches her nightly visitor entering her room.
Another quarter of an hour passes in silence. Her body is screaming to move, even just a little, and she wishes that she could tailor her muscles into compliance, force them to be calm. As is, her reserve of patience is empty, and she grants herself five seconds to burn off the energy coiled inside of herself. Those five seconds are surprisingly productive – she stretches her legs out, rolls her shoulders back, and briefly closes her eyes so she can scratch the itch plaguing the bridge of her nose.
When she opens her eyes, Inej is sitting on the edge of her bed, lips creased into a smile.
“I win,” she says, pushing her dark hood away from her face.
“Damn it,” Genya sighs, kicking the blanket away and sliding over to Inej’s side. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
“I suppose we will have to see,” Inej replies, sliding her long fingers into Genya’s hair and leaning in for a kiss.
For the next full hour, while Genya may be quiet, she’s far from silent.