"Of course thou art no plant!" Lyubov says, cheerily. "Thou'rt something like a starborn of the 'tophyte kind. And thou'rt also ... nu." She makes a vague gesture, hand flopping limply at the wrist. "The girl equivalent, if I'm any judge, and oy like. I'm nearly forty. In such matters, I better be some manner of judge."
She does not, it must be said, look nearly forty. Maybe a fresh-faced mid-30s, at most.
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"Of course thou art no plant!" Lyubov says, cheerily. "Thou'rt something like a starborn of the 'tophyte kind. And thou'rt also ... nu." She makes a vague gesture, hand flopping limply at the wrist. "The girl equivalent, if I'm any judge, and oy like. I'm nearly forty. In such matters, I better be some manner of judge."
She does not, it must be said, look nearly forty. Maybe a fresh-faced mid-30s, at most.