"Come in."
Relief hits hard enough that I nearly embarrass myself with smoke.
I follow her inside before my dragon can mistake an invitation into her apartment for anything more significant than it is.
Her home is smaller than I expected, warm and lived-in in a way the mansion never manages despite the number of people occupying it. There's a book open on the couch, a mug on the coffee table and a pair of shoes kicked beneath a chair.
She takes the peonies when I offer them to her, studying the flattened pink petals beneath the glass.
"You kept them."
"Of course."
"And pressed them."
"Yes."
Her eyes lift to mine. "That's very romantic for someone who broke into my confidential client file."
"I didn't break into it. I have authorized access."
"That is not helping your case."
"I realized that as I said it."
Her mouth twitches, and the sight of it loosens something in my chest.
Margot gestures toward the couch. "Sit down. Watching you stand in my living room is making me concerned about the structural integrity of the building."
"I'm not that large."
She looks pointedly up at me.
I reconsider. "The couch, then."
I sit.
The couch immediately becomes a problem.
It is perfectly respectable furniture for a human woman of Margot's size. For me, it leaves my knees much higher than I would prefer and makes six centuries of dignity difficult to maintain.
Margot looks at me, presses her lips together and fails to hide the beginning of a laugh.
"Not one word."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"You were absolutely going to say something."
"I was just going to ask whether you're comfortable."
"Liar."
The laugh that escapes her is quiet, but it's the first one I've heard from her since she walked out of my room.
I'd forgotten how much I missed it.
She sits at the other end of the couch with the peonies resting across her lap. The distance between us is deliberate, so I leave it there. I came to talk, not to coax her closer simply because I'm accustomed to being able to.