Behind My Back

“Shhh,” Mithra whispers. “Don’t wake her. She hasn’t slept in three days.”
I keep my eyes shut. The second set of footsteps passes by the sofa and follows Mithra into the office kitchen.
“It’s nice of you to tolerate her,” Quetzal says quietly.
“She’s an overcomplicated weirdo, and sometimes I want to hit her, but she’s not too bad.”
Quetzal hums.
“What was she like as a kid?”
“Always trying to please.”
“Hasn’t really lost that, has she?”
“She’s gotten better at the pleasing,” Quetzal mutters darkly.
And people say you never hear anything nice about yourself when you eavesdrop.