(no subject)
Cordelia Vorkosigan is sitting at a table, with a vat-protein chef's salad and a thoughtful expression.
From time to time, whatever it is she's thinking about is enough to completely distract her from the salad. Right now, she's been absently holding the same forkful of greenery for at least two minutes.
It's been five days, and the front door still hasn't reappeared.
Until it does, just long enough for a familiar-looking woman to step through. When it closes behind her, it's gone.
After a while, Cordelia heads in the other woman's direction.
From time to time, whatever it is she's thinking about is enough to completely distract her from the salad. Right now, she's been absently holding the same forkful of greenery for at least two minutes.
It's been five days, and the front door still hasn't reappeared.
Until it does, just long enough for a familiar-looking woman to step through. When it closes behind her, it's gone.
After a while, Cordelia heads in the other woman's direction.