There's room. There is also, ahead of her on the shore, where there was not before, a picnic blanket with several cushions atop of it, and a bejeweled woman with a painted face seated on one of the cushions, smiling a helpful, hopeful smile.
The desire to spitefully turn around and head in the opposite direction is very strong. So very, very strong.
But if this woman can have moved from the pavilion to the shore without a whisper of effort then she can probably do the same to wherever Dru tries to go next, so maybe she ought to just get this over with.
Eventually -- after taking another few minutes to carefully ignore the woman in favor of surveying the lake, because not spiting her own face doesn't mean she won't be petty -- Dru ambles over to the picnic blanket. She drops onto a cushion with careless grace and waits for the other woman to speak.
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But if this woman can have moved from the pavilion to the shore without a whisper of effort then she can probably do the same to wherever Dru tries to go next, so maybe she ought to just get this over with.
Eventually -- after taking another few minutes to carefully ignore the woman in favor of surveying the lake, because not spiting her own face doesn't mean she won't be petty -- Dru ambles over to the picnic blanket. She drops onto a cushion with careless grace and waits for the other woman to speak.