Wendy tore her eyes away from the window, where they seemed to wander of their own accord, abashedly.
"Noo," she said, waving it off playfully. "It's nothing, I just--know the man who runs Waterstones, and it's a--nice place. To go." Equivocating, she was equivocating, and Wendy was one of the most straightforward people on the planet. Beating around the bush was not in her modus operandi, therefore she was always terrible at it. But better a slightly suspicious best friend than fully admitting to her shame, right?
She picked at her cheesecake some more, looking at Psyke speculatively. "Did you hate your name? I think it's lovely. And you are the one carrying the baby, you should get to veto whatever names you want."
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