"No, you're just you, and I'm pretty fluent in you, now. Why do you think you are, though?" Irene asked, genuinely wanting an answer and knowing she'd get one today. Her foot nudged gently against Amaya's leg again, just to reaffirm the comforting touch. "Did something happen to make you think you're bad at all this?"

Because for most of their association, Irene had suspected that Amaya was her own worst enemy when it came to matters of the heart (and, well before that, matters of letting the fancy lady who wouldn't leave you alone take you to bed.) And while she had her suspicions, she had never quite nailed down -- or wanted to ask -- whether it was a matter of prior relationships, or insecurity, or an unknown quantity, or a combination thereof.