Hal

It had been the smell that had sent Tani out of her almost office. That smell of dead something, which she'd been unable to find (not that the warring relief and unease at not being able to find its source made it any better; if anything, it made her more reluctant to really look for it, alongside the knowledge that some small pest was living in the series of rooms, which she'd also been unable to find -- which was why, most days, she simply tried to ignore it), and which kept her thinking of the space as storage rooms rather than her office and attached archives. That and all the junk she'd yet to clean. She knew she should take care of it, but with everything that'd happened... well, it explained why she was in Ul'dah, instead of the Mist. Why she'd tried to visit Saiyah, and her brother, and failed at both. Hadn't really tried at either. Was ignoring both facts. It was much more fun to lurk about the Weaver's Guild until she was chased out for being disruptive. Was it her fault she had numerous opinions she chose to share? ...Yes, yes it was. But that was part of the fun, and it felt good to crack a mischievous smile at the harried guild leader. Less good to be banned for a moonspan, but, well, some prices had to be paid. When she got bored of making sidelong commentary at the atrocious stylings and quality of fashions shown off in the Quicksand, she took to the market. She bought something sweet that she really, really shouldn't be eating (especially considering how she spent most of her days sitting on her ass unmoving but for writing), defying her better judgement for a few bells worth of enjoyment. Sometimes it felt good to be wicked, and Tani was very fond of indulging in that particular pleasantry. Her thoughts full of idle nonsense, she wandered the streets of Ul'dah, on the outskirts of faster traffic, letting her feet take her along too familiar paths. She gravitated away from the busier parts of the city, which was how she heard the music. New music, not the street performers she was used to seeing. Of a mind to be distracted (and, perhaps, distracting in turn), she followed the music to the fountain -- quiet, watchful; deciding whether or not to be a nuisance. She paused in an archway, savoring her treat and the sight of the woman with her harp, glowing in the dancing light. And the couple. They lit a wry smile on Tani's face, one not entirely kind.

Tani looked between pot and elezen, dubious. There was nothing for her to do, apparently, so she scooped up some of the receipts she'd been recording into one of the account ledgers, and resumed her work. She sat on the floor, leaning up against the big trunk with the work in her lap, studiously ignoring Isabelle and the damned plant.

Tani glanced about the room, her eyebrow yet raised. Empty but for her writing supplies, bookkeeping detritus, and the leftover furniture. "No," she said, her own voice cool.

There were no tables; a large storage trunk and a few chairs -- plus the two plants -- was all the furniture currently in the room. Still, they provided surface area adequate for the tray. Tani watched her, left hand on her hip, her other arm hugging herself around the waist. An eyebrow raised at Isabelle's temerity, but she didn't comment. She just stood. Watching.

The trip was silent and uneventful, ending when Tani opened the door into her rooms and gesturing Isabelle inside. "The floor is fine," she said, her voice tight.

"My legs are uninjured," Tani said, her voice and bearing stiff. "But I will thank you to carry the tray." Without waiting to see Isabelle put the cane down, she walked back to her office, her back straight and proud.

Tani did not reach out to take it. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. "...Why?"

Normally, Tani would have refused without hesitation. It marked her, that she did hesitate, left hand rising unbidden to the bandage that covered right shoulder and stretched down to the top of her pectoral muscle. She shifted where she stood, eyeing the unexpected item. "Is that... a cane?"

Tani's face, in turn, was extraordinarily bland. "Yes," she said, leaning against the door frame. "I believe it is also time to water the plants?" She hurt. Her jaw tensed.

Tani paused at the door that lead out to the hall, listening. Her lips firmed, and she shook her head before passing out into the hall. She shut the door firmly behind her. ___________ There was always something that needed to be done. It was why Tani enjoyed being a bookkeeper so much. It kept her busy, and when she was busy she couldn't think, and when she wasn't busy she distracted herself with people. People, she enjoyed. Isabelle, she did not. The thought was unwelcome, and distracting as Tani stumbled over a list of figures. She carefully scraped the heavy paper, and started anew. Two scrapings later, and she forced herself up, looking around the room. Barren room, cluttered by other peoples' forgotten things. Saiyah had been too busy to help her, so Tani began puttering around, clearing the floor, and taking out the old mop she'd borrowed. Cleaning hurt, but it kept her busy. It kept her mind busy. Busy enough, except when the plant she'd almost killed --almost, but for Isabelle's aid -- kept catching her eyes. She went to the back rooms instead, moving things, cleaning things, floors, walls, windows: anything in reach. She returned to the front room only when the pain in shoulder and pectoral muscles intensified and sharpened. The plant stood there, idle, accusing. Yellowed leaves. Drooping leaves. She frowned at it, but it remained unchanging. She'd forgotten the water can. Swearing, she stormed out of her almost-office, noting that the sky had darkened considerably. Maybe enough time had passed. Yeah, right. Her knock on Isabelle's door was harder this time, and she far more certain.

Tani narrowed her eyes at Isabelle. Her wound ached. It was why she'd not paid for a healer. Her lips thinned as she stared at the other woman, unabashed now; there was no room for awkwardness or false modesty. She took what measure she could of the other woman, chose to hear what she wanted, and made her own interpretations. It was thus that she turned on her heel, without a word, and strode through the Doman sliding doors and into the room beyond. She wanted out.

"You make many assumptions, and now you're reaching. Spare me the histrionics, Isabelle. You've not yet earned them with me."

"Merely exposing the hypocrisy. If that's all?"

"If you aren't willing to give, then neither am I." Tani didn't reach out. She stood, hands fisted at her sides, and stared with her chin lifted.

"Why do you always cover your face?" Controlled. Tani wanted to be mean.

Tani snatched her hand away from Isabelle, whirling back to the other woman, her face flushing. She was visibly angry, visibly cold in that anger. "Why?"

Tani stood abruptly, setting her tea down on the tray. "Thank you for humoring me," she said, adjusting her gloves and not quite looking at Isabelle. "I'd best get back to work. Please, enjoy the tea. I'll return later to collect the dishes." She turned to leave.

It was always easy to ignore the things she didn't wish to respond to. Tani chose not to hear it, to not remember it. She wanted to argue. "No," she said, and the edge in her voice grew sharp. "I am a bookkeeper, not a warrior, and not some gods-forsaken infiltrator. I had no business being there, and I should have known as much. I should have said as much." The fire was suddenly unfriendly. She turned her face away from it, closed her eyes too long for a blink, and opened them on Isabelle. Tani's eyes weren't friendly, either.

It wasn't what she'd meant. Given the context of their conversation, Tani could even understand why, but it didn't make her reaction any easier. She studied the details of the room, the contrast between hard and soft; danger and comfort. Anger flared. It surprised her. She hadn't expected it, especially not before Isabelle, in her rooms, Tani as her guest. It wasn't an appropriate response, but she gave into it anyways, because it was easier. Because it was known to her, and she knew what to do with it. She was a coward. "I shouldn't have been there," she said, a new and cool edge to her tone. She was embarrassing herself, and later she would pay for it with shame and regret. But right then? She didn't care.

The room was suddenly very interesting. Tani let her eyes wander as Isabelle spoke, all the awkwardness bled from her -- bled from both of them -- and replaced with something far less easy. Worse. It was worse. And what was there to be done? What was always done. "I'll ask why, then," she said, because the price was too high to acknowledge what else Isabelle had said. Or she was too much a coward.

Tani winced, and covered it by rubbing at her face. Her hand then migrated to her earlobe, which she plucked at absentmindedly. "Ahh, something about ... disemboweling and blood and death being part of your hobbies, or some such."

"Death is part of life. But how much death..." Tani shrugged one-shouldered. Tani was not a comforting sort of person, so she let Isabelle's comments pass without responding, choosing instead to ask: "so you were...not being entirely serious, the day of the first meeting? With what you, ah, said." Careful, lass.

Tani was taken aback, and despite her best efforts it showed on her face. She took her sweet time in answering. "Is that why you make light of bloodsport and death?" Her tone was entirely neutral, matching her face.

"Uh." Tani tipped her head to the side, trying to make sense of Isabelle's statement. She covered her confusion by sipping more tea. She did not succeed at making sense of Isabelle's statement. She suspected she'd wind herself into knots trying. "Pardon?"

"I'd like that." A thoughtful pause, as Tani slid her gaze back to Isabelle. "How did you come to care for plants?"