The corridor's torches flickered as Mia and Noctlisa crossed paths, each step echoing like a heartbeat in the silent hall.
"I fear my attentions were too vigorous, Noctlisa," Mia murmured, her tone gentle yet assured. "Has the ointment met your expectations?"
"Aye—no scars left at all," Noctlisa spat, cheeks burning. "I had battle scars once, blasted them away with some pill—yet that old junk was dull compared to this."
"Dull?" Mia echoed, tilting her head.
"Aye," Noctlisa grunted, eyes darting aside. "Scrubbing wounds is one thing, but having Master's hands on me—now that's somethin' else."
Mia stiffened, her polite composure cracking for a heartbeat. She forced a cough and looked away. "…indeed."
Unable to reprimand her for such frankness, Mia pressed her lips tight together and thought, I can't tell her off when I enjoyed Master Jett's care as well.
She continued toward Jett's quarters.
