{Lune}
Lune had been making polite conversation with Lady Pemberton for approximately seven minutes.
Admittedly, it felt like seven hours.
"The agricultural prospects in the northern territories are quite promising this season," Lady Pemberton said, her mask's peacock feathers bobbing with each word.
"How interesting," Lune replied in the same tone she used for everything, nodding at the same slow speed she'd been using all night. It felt like her head was about to fall off.
"My husband believes we could increase yields by thirty percent."
"That's remarkable."
"Do you have any interest in agricultural investment, dear?"
"Not really."
The lady blinked at the blunt response.
"I see."
An awkward silence. Lady Pemberton's peacock feathers drooped slightly.
"If you'll excuse me," Lune said, "my social battery has died."
"Your what?"
"Have a good night, Lady Pemberton."
