Ordinarily she took her coffee with enough honey to stand a spoon in it. Tonight it was a luxury all by itself. She held it under her nose and breathed deep. Earthy and velvety. Aromas were comforting; they helped keep her in one spot.
“When you forget what you are under the glam, the glam becomes what you are.” Looking thoughtful, she blew across the oily surface, then took a sip. “You are always trying to forget. ’Tis why you keep the ring.” Another lingering sip. She licked her lips. “Mm. I do wonder, though. There is a boy back home. Gerraid A’Belfeirst. You remind me of him, a bit. One of those fellows who’s right in the middle of everything. Picked first at every game, Long Patrol, hunting, herding, all of it. The trouble is he’s quite as good as he says he is, only he’ll never stop telling you about it.”
Her voice became sharper, with a young woman’s weary aggravation, and a wrinkle of playful disgust settled across the bridge of her nose. Even her accent thickened. She directed herself to the coffee mug. “The only reason he’s worth speaking to is because he’s uncommon pretty, but then you get past the prettiness and you’re stuck with his awful, stupid, vapid boasting for the rest of the night. The difference is that Glenn is terribly interesting, but then it is very tedious waiting for him to get over himself enough to get to the interesting bits, and nothing much to look at while you wait. They say such men are secretly insecure and need reassuring, but I don’t know. They all seem very satisfied just as they are. In any case, it’s not worth waiting around for them to improve, and no woman’s job to improve them, unless she’s their ma.”