“The idea I might select something so scandalous, Commander!” Ursula frowned, but her expression wasn’t terribly serious. “The Fletcher House has, and will always be, patriots. Zaichaer will always have us.”
Her words were lighthearted, as best she could make them. The possibility of war was thick in the air. And, with the recent coup, and the very public shaming of once-prominent families - well, to be anything less than absolutely loyal, even in jest, was something Ursula refused to risk.
“...of course, the thought of a donation to the Pfenning Theater did inspire my suggestion,” she said, “Hardly damaging to your career. Although, it might motivate my mother to lecture you, again, on the various offenses she’s endured at the hands of their new director.” Ursula smiled, her expression teasing. “It is, currently, one of her favorite topics.”
A good sport, she decided, considering Brenner as he considered her. His expression was strikingly severe like he was all edge. He was, of course, quite handsome, but there was something sharp to him.
“How kind of you, to discard an advantage!” Ursula said, “Not terribly strategic, but I would have you know it's appreciated all the same.”
She laughed, like a breath of summer wind, “I would deny it if we were in public, but, yes, I enjoy the odd wager, every now and then. I might describe it as a fondness for games, so long as there is some skill involved rather than relying entirely on chance. A point for you, Commander Dornkirk.”
And now, it was her turn. “I assumed, initially, that you rode,” she starts, eyeing Brenner. “But, no. How could you be, when you’ve flown. I imagine a horse pales in comparison to any airship.”
She hummed, thinking. “You hunt. Perhaps not as much as you might wish to but enough that you would consider it a hobby.”
