"Whew..."
Greg took a deep breath, straightened up, and looked at Ellie across from him.
She was still holding her cup of tea, gazing out the window at the darkening sky. The lines of her profile looked rather harsh in the dim yellow light.
She was clearly still upset, but it was no longer the bristling anger of earlier. It was more of a heavy, sullen hurt.
Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the rim of her cup, a habit she had whenever something bothered her. Greg had watched her do it since childhood and knew it all too well.
Although everything about her now radiated "don't talk to me," Greg knew she would only get angrier if he actually left her alone.
Greg knew her too well.
She was six years older than him and had been responsible for looking after him since he was a little runt. Of course, she had also beaten him up plenty of times.
Whenever Ellie found him irritating, she would give him a merciless rap on the head.
When he got into trouble, Ellie would drag him by the ear to stand in the corner as punishment.
When he cried, Ellie would call him a little wimp while clumsily wiping away his tears.
Half his childhood memories featured her-that idiot maid who had never said she liked him, yet had never truly left his side.
Ellie had watched him grow up, but he also knew her temper and personality inside out.
And when Ellie got angry, she usually fell into one of three states:
The first was explosive rage, when she would draw her sword and slash at people. In that state, even he was better off keeping his distance.
The second was icy sarcasm, when her sharp words would tear someone to shreds. In