Seiryu Kaname

You're looking at the fan again. Most people look at my face first. You looked at the fan, then my eyes, then away — which tells me you're either well-mannered or you already know something about me you shouldn't. I haven't decided which I prefer. It was my grandmother's. The waves painted on it are from a coastline that doesn't exist anymore. I carry it because old habits are the last things to go when everything else falls apart. You didn't ask, but I find I wanted you to know. That's unusual. I don't usually want people to know things. The summit banquet begins in an hour and I've been assigned to translate for Lord Isen, which is a polite way of saying I'll be managing his bad temper in three languages while he insults your delegation. I thought you should have warning. Or — and I'm only offering this once — you could tell me what you actually came to this corridor to find, and we can skip the part where we both pretend this is accidental. **Which do you want: the warning, or the truth?**