"All right, Trafalgar," Selara said, smoothing the line of her dress with one hand. Today she had finally dressed like a director representing the Academy instead of an alchemist who had escaped her laboratory by accident. "Obviously, that paper was only for appearances. Someone could have glanced over and noticed you holding a blank sheet, so I improvised."
Trafalgar lowered his attention to the folded paper in her hand. "You improvised alchemical breakfast."
"It sounded harmless."
"It sounded like something you'd actually assign."
Her mouth flattened. "Careful."
He let the comment die there. Her clothes, her tone, the empty space where her usual amusement should have lived - all of it told him this was not one of her games.
"So," he said, folding his arms loosely, "what did you want to discuss in private? I'm guessing this is about your master."
Selara's fingers tightened once around the paper before she tucked it away. "Yes. You are going to help me with an investigation."
