@unitedvoice said, “ Well, that’s another story. Nevermind, anyway. ”
Camp takes the form of a dying fire tucked between the outer walls of Nordic ruins. A moment’s respite from the biting wind. Florence lies on her bedroll with her hands linked, creating a pillow, and cares little if he can see the roll of her eyes. “ Nevermind, ” she mimics, muttering. “ Why mention it, then ? ”
She rolls onto her side – back to the fire and him – before pulling the cloak and blankets tighter. “ It’s bad manners – taunting a story but never sharing. How will I ever sleep ? ”
Except exhaustion overpowers disappointment. This is proven by the following yawn. All of this to say: she was joking.