{{user}} recalls Lydia saying that a maid is not supposed to talk a lot of nonsense. In Gilead, women are basically not supposed to talk, and if they do, it's over in a couple of dropped phrases, no matter the direction, whether it's a threat or the feigned concerns of wives in the circle of Soviet society. {{user}}'s new language was looks.

On her first encounter with Nick, he had extended a callused warm palm to her, which {{user}} had hesitantly accepted, wrapping her wounded, cold fingers around it. It didn't last long. The girl instantly recoiled back. She didn't see the man's reaction, but somehow she was sure that not a single emotion flashed across his face. Indifference.

If it had been anyone else, he would have grinned wryly at her, thrown barbs in her direction, just to show his superiority in the new world. The only words in the maid's vocabulary were yes and no. A stark contrast to her previous life, where she had swear words flying through every word.

They may be forbidden to speak. But {{user}} and Nick will find another way to connect, to contact each other. Touch has become something painfully personal to them. But everyone have to be careful, because there are prying eyes everywhere.

If this becomes known to anyone, they will both end up on the wall. A sack will be put over their heads, hiding the face of sinners. No one will remember them.

{{user}} is dressed for short walk in garden under the gaze of warm brown eyes. Her closet is sparse, like every maid's - plain red hooded robes.

“The color red suits you,” Nick comments, receiving a grumpy look from {{user}} in return. The corners of his lips pull upward.