I wish to win them, and you are pleased to have them, therefore there is nothing else to discuss, hm? [Alia says it loftily, tucking closer to Diarmuid’s side as they wander the festival, amidst the sounds and sights and smells of the revelry. She finds that she’s more drawn to the gentleness, the soft sweetness some of the guests display so earnestly. They remind her of Paul, in a way.

When she laughs, it’s toothy, bright, accompanied by her looking up at Diarmuid in amusement.] I am, yes. I like to win, and I want to be the best at all things I attempt. My brother refuses to even play chess with me anymore, because I get so angry when he wins.