"What does that even mean?" Cicero demanded, clearly agitated by the vague answer Olivia gave.
Part of me wanted to help him, give him the answers he wanted but it was as if my mouth couldn't form the words. As if I was incapable of putting the sounds together to give him the answer he clearly needed. I just watched Cicero look between myself and Olivia growing more agitated and worried the longer the silence when on.
Olivia for her part seemed to be unfazed by Cicero's attention. She instead was untying the string from her own wrist, then mine, before taking a step back, removing the scent blockers from her nose and beginning to put things away in her bag. Once she finished cleaning up she looked at me with a sad smile.
"You'll understand if I take my leave of you at this point. I need
