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Summary
“Why were you scurrying around in the dark, hm?” Navia drags her thumb to the corner of Clorinde’s lips, picking at some of the dried blood there, “Like a rat.”
“I was not– scurrying. I merely intended to report here for. My weekly apology,” Clorinde says, a bit haltingly. Navia can’t help but grin at the small, distracted pauses between her words.
“Oh, yes. You’ve been quite diligent with those, haven’t you?”
or,
Clorinde makes it a point to “apologize” to Navia multiple times a week