'I need to ask you something.' Like that, the words are out.
Abigail tastes her tea, her eyes fixed on the ocean.
Eliza prepares herself and inquires: 'Did I stroll in on something?'
Abigail looks at her, her demeanor baffled. 'Stroll in on what?'
'At the party. You and Pierce together. In our room. You looked extremely close. I contemplated whether you'd been… cozy.'
Abigail's eyes round. 'As in physically? Ha!' She shakes her head. 'No,' she says, as yet shaking her head. 'Simply no.'
'Have you ever… ?'
'No.' she opens her mouth, as though to add something, yet closes it again and squeezes her lips tight.
For reasons unknown she can place, Eliza trusts her. Without another word, they return their looks to the ocean loosened up before them, steady and moving and greyer since mists
