Lauri sprawled dolefully across her bed, sobbing quietly. Glayelle had silently driven her home with much bewitchment of the car, the whole time with a cynical, irate face, pursed lips and focused spell-beam eyes.
“All right,” said Glayelle assertively from the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Pack your charm, your mermyd armor, anything else you would want for a quest.”
Lauri looked up slowly, her swollen eyes uncomprehending. “Why?” she asked in a depressed monotone.
“Why do you think?” asked Glayelle, straightening her pillows and pushing in her desk chair. “We’re going after Matt, or Mohrak, or whatever you want to call him.”
“Why?” repeated Lauri in the same bored, dispirited tone.
“Because you love each other,” said Glayelle tartly. “Just because he’s being an idiot right now doesn’t mean you don’t love each other…Poseidon, if we stopped loving every time men were stupid, we’d all be single all our lives. Now get up!”
Stiffly, Lauri rose. “Fine. But don’t blame me when it turns sour.”