“So,” Porter asked, hat in hand and clearly uncomfortable, “are you going to help?”
“That’s a silly question,” Sylvia informed him. She stood up and turned the TV off. “Arundel is in my crew. Of course I’m going to help. Besides,” she added, as she would to no one save Porter, “I like him. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
Porter grinned at her, giving her the impression he’d just wanted to hear her say that. “I like him too. So, what’s the plan?”
“First, we determine the situation. Then, we determine the possible outcomes. Then we determine a course of action.”
Porter nodded. “Practical.” As he held open the door for her, he added, “You’re always practical, Sylvia.”
She nodded brusquely, not sure if it was intended as a compliment, but certain it was accurate to his perception of her. It was, after all, a perception she’d cultivated.
“Let’s go get Arundel out of trouble.” She smiled, or did a little mouth-grimace that people could interpret as a smile if they tried (She didn’t like full smiles, never had, less so with her new teeth), and headed out into the world, or at least into the halls of Addergoole.
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