Lugh jogged a little to catch up to Oatey and stalked along now as annoyed as she seemed to be angry. “So what did I do?” He began, “I’m used to being treated as a pariah, but at least I usually know my offense. Commonly it is the same one. . .”
“I don’t want to talk . . .” said Oatey but Lugh cut her off.
“Well, I DO want to talk. I always want to talk. If you want to spend time with me in the future you will have to become accustomed to my talk, because that’s what I do, I talk.” Lugh took a step or two more before adding, “and though I don’t mind carrying a conversation I do like to hear the occasional word. . .”
“I’ve nothing to say.”
“As if that makes any difference,” Lugh mumbled to himself before trying again, “First, perhaps you can tell me what I did.”
“Nothing at all. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Nothing AND I don’t want to talk about it.” Lugh countered, “So there IS something.”
Oatey stopped dead and Lugh stopped a bit beyond her, turning back as she said quietly, “Why are you following me Lugh?”
Her pain was palpable, overwhelming, and it shocked Lugh into silence. She stared hopelessly into his eyes a moment, but a couple of Norfolk walked up to them in the corridor, and in making way Oatey pushed past him. She continued on up the corridor without his answer. Lugh followed silently.