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Summary
They laugh, obviously letting Ryoshu’s words pass by. Ryoshu can see their hair swaying out of the corner of her eye, their movements followed by a gentle jingle on their hands. “Ah, in that case, pray allow me to attend thee? I would fain entertain thee,” they put on a theatrical voice, a louder, deeper one, “And besides, of all delights at gatherings such as this, the most-beloved of mine wouldst be to acquaint beauteous gentlewomen — above all, the ones whose artful hands make the paint breathe.”
What the fuck, Ryoshu thinks and finally turns her head, wearing an expression that, by the feeling of it on her face, represents her emotion quite well — that is, one of unimpressed unamusement.