Zhi frowned. Her hands were pressed tight to her lap under the table where Lalataru couldn't see them shaking. Some of that strain was present in her shoulders; she looked tense. "Someone wrote it -- don't that mean there's someone t'read it? Why d'ye keep a book ye can't read -- I mean. . .I've seen ye carryin' this afore, haven't I? What's it about? Why's it so important?"
Her nails pressed into her palms. It hurt. It felt clean.
Her nails pressed into her palms. It hurt. It felt clean.
