Isabella almost wanted to strangle something.
By the time the conversation ended, her expression had gone through too many changes in too little time. At first she had looked shocked, then offended, then angry, then deeply miserable in that special way only a person robbed by invisible forces could look.
Zyran had watched every bit of it.
Finally, he asked, "Why do you always do that?"
Isabella blinked and looked at him. "Do what?"
He made a vague motion with one hand near his head. "That thing. Going quiet, staring at nothing, making five different faces in one breath, and occasionally looking like you are arguing with yourself."
She looked at him for one long second.
Then she answered very calmly, "It's because I'm insane."
Zyran did not argue.
That part made it worse.
Usually he would say something shameless or irritating, but this time he only nodded very slightly, as if accepting that answer cost him nothing at all.
Isabella stared at him.
