“…so I came straight to you. That’s all.” Aelita finished, at last. The Zeltron could feel the tips of her ears drooping against her shoulders as she stared resolutely down at the wooden floor of Noelle’s office. She’d been staring at it for quite a while now, unable to meet the Grandmaster’s gaze.
It was silly, she knew. Noelle DeWytt and the Hyruscanti Council didn’t see eye to eye on much. Yet somewhere deep down she still expected to hear the reprimand, and now she was stuck blushing like a fool, counting every seam in the floorboards like she’d already been assigned some sort of punitary exercise.
But supposing, even supposing she’d been able to get over that? The Grandmaster had almost certainly noticed she’d overheard her conversation with Syra, which – while she’d mostly done it on accident – was quite rude. So the floorboards would have to make do.
At least they were rather nice, pleasantly rustic. Sometimes Aelita missed the simple decor of Hyruscant dearly.