Austin returned to the room late at night. He had expected her to have fallen asleep so he opened the door quietly, but Alina was awake, sitting in a chair near the fire.
One glance at him was enough to tell her how he had spent his evening. He looked exhausted and mentally drained.
"The meeting?" she asked.
"Had to argue about everything," he replied.
He walked over and sat on the bed beside her. Alina immediately held his hand.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
"No."
Austin leaned back against the headboard and took a deep breath.
"I want one hour where nobody talks about diplomacy or negotiation."
"Done," she smiled and picked up one of the poetry books, he had given her earlier, from the side table.
Austin watched her turning the pages, then closed his eyes.
"What are you reading?" he murmured.
"I haven't decided yet."
"Choose something tragic. It suits my mood tonight."
