The carriage rider opened the door for them.
Claire pitied the man - he had been called away from the festivities very early.
The man took in his dripping clothes with a brief glance, never daring to meet his gaze.
Claire climbed in first and took her seat across his - exactly where she had sat before.
Yeren took his seat across from her and the carriage door slammed shut.
She knew the ride back would be silent.
But the silence was choking.
She kept darting glances at him. His hair was wet and matted to his face.
His garments clung like a second skin, his skin glistened.
Then, he leaned forward and removed the coat he had been wearing, holding it out the window as he squeezed most of the water out of it.
The way the sleeve of the shirt clung to his arms…
"I assume you would need wine after the… events that just took place." She said in an attempt to make conversation.
His gaze met hers for the first time since they had entered the carriage.
"Maybe, I will."
