Asira gaped at her for a moment. "Why would I improve on something that's already perfect?"
"Oh wow." Sullha chuckled. "I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"Really?" Asira looked doubtful. "No one has ever told you that you are pretty?"
"Tomek tells me all the time that I'm the most beautiful mommy in the world, but he doesn't count."
The truth was that he was the only one who counted, and maybe Yaaf too, but Yaaf had never told her that she was perfect, or pretty, or beautiful.
Did he think any of those things and just didn't know how to talk to women? Or did he still see her as his childhood friend and not a grown woman he could be attracted to?
Her good mood vanished as it dawned on her that he didn't seem to think of her that way. Yaaf hadn't indicated in any way that he found her attractive. He was coming to visit his old friend. That's all.
She should be glad. If he had shown interest of that kind in her, he would have scared her.
"Sullha?" Asira asked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She affected a smile. "Do you want me to sit still, or should I pretend to read?"
"Just sit the way you were sitting when I walked over. You had that dreamy expression on your face."
"I was watching Tomek."
Sullha glanced at where he'd been last and saw him tearing across the yard toward them.
He skidded to a stop in front of the bench. "You came!"
Asira smiled. "I did. I promised to draw your mother, but I can also draw any of your friends who want to sit still for me. Tell me who you want me to draw first."
Tomek scrunched his little nose, and Sullha could see the inner negotiation happening in real time behind his eyes.
"Can you draw Pol? He's my friend, and he's very good at sitting still."
Sullha bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression from giving her away.
"I thought you wanted a picture of me," she said.
"You're always here. I can get a picture of you any time."
"Aha."
That was solid five-year-old logic she couldn't argue with.
Asira grinned. "That's all right with me," she said. "I can do your mother's later. Go get your friend."
Tomek spun on his heel and tore back across the yard at double the speed he had come.
"I'm sorry," Asira said.
"Don't be. He's five, and his friends are the center of the world. I'm just the bench warmer."
Tomek came back, dragging Pol by the wrist. The little boy was a head shorter and was doing his best to follow without understanding what he had agreed to. His knees were dusty, and there were streaks of something green across his forehead and cheek.
Sullha grimaced. Hopefully, he hadn't eaten a grasshopper.
"Sit here," Tomek instructed, pointing to the end of the bench next to Asira. "She's going to draw your picture. It takes a really, really long time, so you have to sit still."
"Why?" Pol asked.
