Now, I've seen many things in my life—talking tree, sentient mist, Claude's very punchable calm face—but nothing prepared me for this particular parade of absurdity: Etienne in a flowy royal blue gown, frayed at the edges like someone had dragged him across a garden hedge. I almost wanted to applaud.
"You look…stunning," I managed, mouth wide open like I was auditioning for a fly-catching contest.
The poor guy's face turned pink so fast it could've been mistaken for an allergy flare-up. He yanked his cloak over his head in a desperate attempt to hide, but unfortunately for him, he had the height of a well-fed deer and the cloak of a small curtain. It did nothing.
Meanwhile, Terrius, who squeezed himself beside me to peek at the beauty, was in fact staring intently at someone else. He was stunned, mouth slightly agape. His usually icy, stoic face cracked, and admiration flashed in his normally inexpressive eyes.
