There were thirty-five different ways she could kill Matilda.
Alecto pondered this over as she sorted the last of the doxy wings, keeping her back to the woman who had, oh, it wasn't an exaggeration---she'd sighed twenty-seven times since she'd been here. Alecto knew that Matilda was trying to capture her attention, but there was no way that she was going to acknowledge the woman until she stopped behaving like a five-year old.
"You're not going to ask me what's wrong?" Matilda's voice came from the other side of the counter.
Alecto didn't bother shaking her head, she just kept going on with her work.
"I don't care."
"Fine." There was a short pause and Alecto hoped that Matilda would just leave, but--"I'm pregnant."
Alecto turned around slowly, one eyebrow high. She stared amusedly at Matilda's now green-tinted face, and she leaned onto the counter in the gossip-esque stance that she knew Matilda had been waiting for, chin in her hands.
"You should've said that in the first place. Go on."
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