Thomas stared at her.
Sylvia was already looking past him toward the palace with the focused expression of someone who had converted emotional disaster into a practical errand and now expected the world to cooperate.
"You want to drink," Thomas said.
"Yes."
"With me."
"Yes."
"After meeting me properly for the first time in a garden where you nearly walked into a fountain."
Sylvia pointed at the fountain without looking at it. "That was not my fault. It was placed aggressively."
"It is decorative."
"That is how it lowers your guard."
Thomas looked at her for a long moment, then said, very carefully, "You should not trust strangers."
Sylvia turned back to him. "I don't."
"You just invited me to drink with you."
"You're not a stranger."
"I am fairly certain we have exchanged fewer than ten complete sentences."
