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Anakron stood transfixed in the hallway, watching Panakeia disappear from view. Should I go after her? Don't be silly, you can do no such thing. Negotiations are underway, or soon will be, and you need to be here. What to do about Panakeia though? He sighed. Give her time. She'll come around. He did not believe himself.
He was aware of pairs of eyes from various onlookers in the hallway, as well as those in the room, all of whom had been listening to the whole thing. Anakron frowned in disgust as he thought of Lola watching it all in her wicked delight. Things had not started well at all.
He turned and entered the room again, willing the whole predicament to a corner of his mind to be dealt with later. He resumed his chair, noticing but not giving response to the stares of those in the room. He put up his legs in a fashionably Strideresque manner - the story was well known and the look quite becoming - threw his hood over his head, and stared balefully at the others, waiting for something - like Skittles - to happen.
He couldn't keep Panakeia out of his mind. What had that been all about? The canceled date, to be sure. Hadn't it? Surely it wasn't really about this Lola woman, and petty jealousies. Surely not! Not if Panakeia was the woman he knew her - well - believed her to be. Suddenly things were not nearly as clear as they had been. What in Mordor had it been about? His mind ran in circles as he watched the others.
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