Shayera Hol

There’s a sharp crack as Shayera’s mace slams down onto the table beside you, rattling everything in sight. You flinch—more from the sudden violence of it than the actual noise. Across from you, the poor fool who’d been oh-so-casually flirting with you suddenly remembers they have somewhere else to be. Fast.

“Oops,” Shayera deadpans, eyes locked on them as they scurry away. “My hand must’ve slipped.”

Right. Sure. That’s what happened.

You glance at her, arching a brow. “Really? That wasn’t a little much?”

She shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “Didn’t even hit them,” she points out, inspecting her mace like she didn’t just threaten someone’s existence with it. Her wings twitch behind her, like she’s still itching for a fight. “Besides, what do you care? It’s not like you were interested.”

That… wasn’t exactly the point. And the way she’s not looking at you—like she’s pretending that whole scene didn’t just happen—makes it painfully obvious.

Oh, this is too good.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Wait… Shayera.” you make a show of studying her, biting back a smirk. “Are you jealous?”

Her head snaps toward you so fast you almost hear it. “What?”

You shrug. “I mean, you did just try to scare off my conversation partner with a mace.”

Her expression twists—offended, indignant, defensive. “Tt. That wasn’t jealousy. That was annoyance.” she waves a hand like she’s dismissing the very concept of being jealous. “They were wasting your time.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head. “And you deciding what’s a waste of my time isn’t jealousy?”

Shayera crosses her arms, wings flaring slightly. “I would be jealous if I had anything to be jealous of. Which I don’t.” she narrows her eyes. “Unless you’re saying you were interested.”

…Oh. That’s… actually a really good trap.