Starling's first hint was a vague, pleasant, faintly familiar yet unidentifiable scent on the air, which he recognized as someone he knew, even if he couldn't make an immediate association. He followed it around a few corners before he realized it was Goneril, then let out a tired, quiet groan and stopped dead in his tracks. This was not something he wanted to get involved in. He was almost sure of it.

But since he was practically in the same room anyway, he took the last few steps and peeked around the corner to see what the older girl was up to. "Ignore me," he said politely. "Apparently I'm just doing rounds."

Goneril looked up at him, and shook her head. "It's all right," she replied, forcing a smile. "I'm not going to die of misery or anything."

He hesitated in the doorway, frowning. "Was that sarcastic? I can't ever tell with you."

"What?" Goneril asked. "Why would it be sarcastic? Apart from the dying of misery part, of course."

"Just checking," he said, edging into the room. "I don't know that you're the type prone to dying of misery or not." He paused. "Everything all right?"

"Well, I've never died of misery before," Goneril replied. She gave him a hesitant look. "I really miss him, though. It's hard to believe I won't see him for a month."

He shrugged. "It's only a month. He did say he'd write, didn't he?"

Goneril nodded. "Of course," she said. "He said he'd write as soon as he got back home." She bit her lip. "A month seems a lot longer right now. I'm scared he's going to go home and meet some worldly, older, sophisticated noble lady whom his sister will approve of."

"Look at it this way." Starling hoisted himself on the edge of a table. "If he was going to find some older, worldy northern nob, he would have found her before he ran into you, right? And if he had one, apparently she weren't holdin' his interest because he got involved with you. Either way, your foot's in the door."

Goneril shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "It's still a long time. Anything could happen."