She considers, rubbing gently at the back of her neck just where I would rub if I thought she would let me. Finally she admits that she has though it was long ago.

She looks me over carefully and I straighten up, smoothing my coat and hair under her regard. She whispers under her breath as she turns her attention, equally careful as that she gave to me, to the branches and leaves nearby. She looks my way even as she reaches forward with one of her lovely long fingered hands to touch one leaf. So close and yet there is such distance between us.

How much of this is real? She asks, but there is something in her eyes, something new and wary, something I wish wasn't there. I shake my braids loose and shed my coat as I give her the answer. "As real as you wish it be, of course."

That is the trick behind all glamour really, the wanting for something other than what is before you to be real. And for a time it can be.

I watch her to see how she take it. I do not want her to be angry or fearful. I tilt my head a little to one side. "Do you not like it?"