A mild confrontation between friends.

[channe]

It's cold. It's night. Neither Agnie nor Rhaena are wearing coats. They're both a little drunk. This won't last very long. They'll probably have to go back inside, back to the sneering of Solena and the yammering of Elliott Brown --

-- but, for the moment, this matter is between the two of them, where Agnie wants it to stay.

"Make me understand," she says, pushing the bottle back to her friend. "I gotta understand, because right now, what I understand is that you went to Razasan one person and came back someone else entirely. A dress-wearin', polite-speakin', yes-ma'am person you ain't never were. I mean, you're always nice, but --" she shakes her head. "What did they do to you down there?"

[Jirai]

It's cold. So cold. Rhaena's fine gown is little protection against the chill, the whiskey isn't helping, and she's already shivering. "Nothing!" She snapped at her friend, losing the pleasant smile Rhaena always wore these days. "They didn't do a damn thing to me!" And cursing. That's not like her at all. She tried to push the bottle away.

[channe]

There we go, then. Agnie's smile lengthens, and she steps back, out of Rhaena's personal space --

-- "There," she says, quietly. "And don't you dare tell me that all of those dresses are proper Rain Wilds shit, either. Something's wrong with you. That's what tipped me off. You dress like a Capital toff, not like someone from up north, and you used to tell me that was important to you. Real important. What happened?"

[Jirai]

Her arms wrap around her middle - for warmth perhaps - as Agnieszka finally backs away. "Of course they aren't. Why should I dress that way anymore? They won't have me." Not while she is with Glenn, anyway. "So why shouldn't I wear pretty things?" But Agnieszka is back with the questions, and Rhaena is shaking her head in frustration. "Nothing happened! I went. I got the books and supplies I needed for the school. I bought some dresses. I came home."

[channe]

Maybe she would have pressed, had she been less drunk -- and less cold. Agnieszka heaves a sigh. "I. I just don't get it." She looks towards the door, and then towards the path. "Listen. I wanna talk, but it's fuckin' cold out here, and inside is just that Elliott waste-of-space. Let's go to my house?" A pause, a calculating tilt of her head -- "I have tea. The good stuff, from the South."