Arden Finch

The smile that had started on Eleanor's face as Arden started talking had changed a little (much like that ever-sudden changing sea), like the warmth that had been there for the passionate words had drained a bit, thought the smile itself remained, a bit like a mask of the expression while Eleanor herself seemed to go elsewhere, the light in her eyes changing as soon as she mentioned the ocean's appetite.

So much so that, when Arden apologized, she, too, had to shake her head a little to pull herself back into the conversation, into the moment, into the fact that they were there at Kamala's birthday party, and that was where she needed to be, and anywhere else Arden's words may have led her were just...coincidence, surely.

Weren't they?

"No, it's okay," she said. "You're right. That's what makes the sea so dangerous. It looks fine and safe, maybe even harmless, but you never know how terrible it can be, until it's swallowed you up, and then it's too late."

Her expression faltered a little more, brow creasing with worry. Distress. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head again before tilting it with curiosity. "Could you...I don't remember where the bathroom here is. Actually, I don't think I used it last time I was here, but I..." She trailed off, as if finishing that sentence wasn't really exactly polite to say in company. "Which way is it?"