milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Shufti is in the bar, by the fire, knitting a little bobble hat. The ball of wool rests on her heavily pregnant belly.

And there's a crossbow resting on her belt as always, just in case that demon she's heard about should show up.

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She shakes her head.

"Like I said, they want to take me away because they think I'm a whore."

Being a very properly brought up young lady of a noble household, Susan doesn't have any access to swear words, improper language, or dirty curses.

Which happens to be a damn bloody shame right about now. "You're fighting their war," she says, tightly.

She shakes her head.

"The war's at a truce until it starts again in Mal's time."

"But you're still a soldier of their army." Susan looks out past the bar, out to the exploding stars beyond the window. "Can this be what the Duchess--your Duchess--has wanted all along?"

She fidgets a little, rubbing her arm.

"I don't know." she says quietly.

Susan looks back at her; the hard lines around her mouth have softened. "Maladict, the others in your troop--they'd fight the ones trying to take you away. I have no trouble believing that for an instant."

"Yes, as long as they're there." She says quietly.

"But the day I came back here Polly and Paul were at the brewery. I had to chase him off myself. Luckily there was only one."

It's not fair. Susan squeezes her shoulder, looks down. "Could you stay here, until the baby's born?" she asks, cursing her awkwardness.

She winces at the touch.

"I will do, when I reach thirty six weeks. After then it is credible that I could have given birth."

The girl quickly withdraws her hand, looking away. "Of course. A good plan."

She looks up.

"Sorry, it wasn't your fault." she says quietly. "I'm just bruised there."

"My mistake." Susan grins lopsidedly. "Have you been to the infirmary?"

She shakes her head.

"It's just bruises."

Stern teacher look. "More than one?"

She fidgets.

"Maybe."

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