The night grew quieter, with the pitter-patter of rain out the window. Their last guest left for his hotel with an archer in tow. The lights in the house were off, and Fumeko stepped out of her room. She walked across the hall and knocked on Tiffany's door.
"Come in."
Fumeko entered.
Tiffany was sat at her vanity, with a lamp on. "Needed something?" her voice had a bit of a croak to it.
"Not much. How's your throat doing?"
The blonde laid a hand on her own neck and massaged it, "Better. My throat doesn't feel shut anymore. But it's just been a bit rough since a couple of days ago. How are you?"
"Fine, I guess. Nothing hurts—just fatigue."
"Hm."
"Hm…"
"So, you just wanted to check on me?"
"Can't I?" Fumeko pursed her lips. "I was just wondering how Kineko was. Did she hear anything downstairs?"
"I don't believe so; I heard most of it. She was pretending to sleep however; all children have a tell," she shook her head.
