<br/>Robin smiled as Jude began to devour the soup.  He sat in the other chair, hands resting lightly on the table, just watching her eat for a bit.  Then he seemed to remember something, and got up again, rooting around among the various pots and urns on the shelves.<br/><br/>He selected a ceramic jug and a small clay cup, and turned back, putting both objects down on the table.  He unstoppered the jug and poured some of its contents into the cup.  It was golden yellow, like honey, but it flowed like water.  Should she drink some of it, she would discover that it was the sweetest liquid she had ever drank, but not sickeningly so.  It was like honey and lemon and maple syrup all rolled into one.<br/><br/>As for the cup, it was an imperfect, lopsided thing, but it performed its function well enough.  And, etched into the surface, someone had crudely spelled out<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 2.65em;">j U D e</span><br/><br/><br/><em>His hands were big, compared to hers. But they were warm and cool at the same time on her skin.  Gently, he guided her fingers to the wet clay, and helped her mold it, shape it, form the lip and hollow out the inside to form a cup shape.  As it was drying in the warm spring sun, he told her to scratch her name in the clay with a fingernail...</em><br/><br/><br/>Robin watched her carefully over the table, searching her features for any sign of recognition.<br/>