Olivia's gaze softened as she looked at Abigaille, her friend's pouty expression now almost endearing despite the tension.
"If...If the intimacy isn't the problem." She said, her voice cautious. "Then what are you so upset about, Abigaille? Why are you...angry?"
Abigaille's eyes darted away, her arms still folded as she huffed, her voice defensive.
"I'm not angry." She said, though her tone betrayed her, sharp and petulant. "I don't know where you're getting that from. I'm fine, totally fine."
But the way she avoided Olivia's gaze, the slight tremble in her lips, made it clear she was anything but fine, her jealousy and frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
Kafka chuckled, his hands gripping Olivia's hips as he met her gaze, his voice smooth and reassuring.
"See, Mom? Like I told you this is normal here. No need to worry about how close we are."
