Plenty of thoughts were swimming inside Leonidas's mind, but foremost was simple…what in the world was he going to do with Willow?
The woman was ignoring him, and despite his previous comments, it was mostly justified. She had opened up to him, and Leonidas, being the dirty bastard he was, didn't do the same in return.
Now, normally, that wouldn't have been a big problem; relations develop at their own pace after all, but the certain topic Willow had opened up about was delicate.
And I'm still not willing to tell her my side. Dammit dude.
A stray gray pebble caught Leonidas's eye, and his feet moved without permission, kicking it across the camp. Marybeth, who was walking beside him, looked at him with a peculiar look in her eyes, caught between a variety of emotions.
The red-haired woman skipped a few steps ahead, then tilted her head upside down. Their eyes met, gold on blue, one gentle, the other glassy.
"What is it, Art? Willow again?"
