Although, it feels like there must be something more to it than that. She's been living in London for over a year. Until recently, with the exception of a few coworkers, she'd only encountered people who were long-time residents, whether originally from abroad or not. And yet now, she keeps running into new arrivals.
Perhaps, these things go in cycles...
While thinking on that, Guinevere takes a sip of what remains of her drink. Her second glass of champagne is almost gone. Being a lightweight where alcohol is concerned, she's already feeling rather tipsy.
It's while in this vulnerable state that Liadan's question hits her. Her eyes widen before she begins to cough as her mouth full of champagne tries to go down wrong. Thankfully, she manages to regain control, preserving some dignity.
"Sorry." She clears her throat. "Uh, yes. We've...met."
A flush rises to her cheeks as she flashes back to their brief encounter. It hadn't been one of her better moments, and she doubts his impression of her is all that flattering.
"Why do you ask?"
As far she's concerned, this question has come out of nowhere. Through a haze of alcohol, Gwen focuses on Liadan, wondering from which world and in what capacity she knows Lancelot.
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Although, it feels like there must be something more to it than that. She's been living in London for over a year. Until recently, with the exception of a few coworkers, she'd only encountered people who were long-time residents, whether originally from abroad or not. And yet now, she keeps running into new arrivals.
Perhaps, these things go in cycles...
While thinking on that, Guinevere takes a sip of what remains of her drink. Her second glass of champagne is almost gone. Being a lightweight where alcohol is concerned, she's already feeling rather tipsy.
It's while in this vulnerable state that Liadan's question hits her. Her eyes widen before she begins to cough as her mouth full of champagne tries to go down wrong. Thankfully, she manages to regain control, preserving some dignity.
"Sorry." She clears her throat. "Uh, yes. We've...met."
A flush rises to her cheeks as she flashes back to their brief encounter. It hadn't been one of her better moments, and she doubts his impression of her is all that flattering.
"Why do you ask?"
As far she's concerned, this question has come out of nowhere. Through a haze of alcohol, Gwen focuses on Liadan, wondering from which world and in what capacity she knows Lancelot.