ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ there is a sweetness to him that cannot be taught. a gentle rhythm to his laughter, as if he were made of music and warmth; he walks through life with kind gestures and a gentle soul. loverboy, softens even the heaviest hearts and makes the world feel, for a fleeting moment, tender and whole.
﹙ ⎯⎯ ⋆ 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝕆ℕ 𝕎𝔸ℝ𝕄 𝕊𝕂𝕀ℕ⠀ ⠀⸺⠀ ⠀)⠀ ⠀PRINCE ERIC? Oh! No... That's FRANCIS THEODORE BEAUMONT, the thirty-four-year-old owner of Little Rivers Pub. Resident of Amethyst Arbor, he lives with a beloved pack of dogs he adores. Being a true chaotic good, TEDDY is known for being charismatic, adventurous and loyal. But don't let that pretty face fool you, he can also be very impulsive, stubborn and restless.
prince eric is a taken skeleton from prismfallshq, portrayed by hugh dancy and played by SIENNA .
⋆ 𝑩𝑰𝑶𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑷𝑯𝒀⠀ ⠀⸺⠀ ⠀Francis was born and raised in Prism Fall, in the serene neighborhood of Amethyst Arbor. The son of a wealthy and attentive family, he grew up surrounded by comfort and opportunity, yet never allowed these privileges to define him. While he could have easily become spoiled or entitled, the love and guidance of his parents shaped him into a man of integrity, kindness, and genuine warmth. They instilled strong morals in him but never tried to force him into molds he did not fit, allowing him the freedom to explore his interests and discover who he truly was.
From a young age, Francis developed a fascination with the sea, learning sailing from his father and embracing the sense of freedom it offered. Music was a constant presence in his home, taught by his mother, and over the years he cultivated a melodic singing voice that reflects her grace and passion. He also learned to cook alongside the household staff, not out of necessity, but from curiosity and joy. A skill that became both practical and personal, one he carries with pride.
Charming, charismatic, and naturally social, Francis has a way of drawing people to him, whether through a smile, a song, or a shared meal. His heart, however, has not always followed the path others expected. Once engaged, he realized that his feelings were not aligned with the commitment, and he ended the engagement. A difficult decision that he has no regrets about, for he values honesty and authenticity above all else.
To help him regain his footing after this chapter of his life, his parents gifted him the Little Rivers Pub, a lively, welcoming place he now owns and cherishes. Where he blends his love for music, storytelling, and community, creating a space that is as warm and vibrant as his own spirit.
she does her best to hide her amusement as his head bobs up and down; the twinkle in her eyes her only betrayal. it’s a rather adorable sight to see. ❛ is that so? ❜ lucielle asks, words soft as silk as she attempts to pitch her voice low to keep her own identity obscured. ❛ best you stay close to me tonight then; lest some apparition tries to lure you away to the lake. ❜
❛ i’m afraid you must’ve committed a grievous crime against your modiste and they chose to punish you as mine suits me quite well. ❜ a gentle tease; she reaches up to touch one of the glittering stars that protrude from her mask as if to emphasise her point. ❛ if you should like, however, i can be your eyes tonight. ❜
Francis did not catch at first who he was speaking to. That was the point of the masks, of course but her tone didn’t make it any easier. Her words, however, gave him something new to focus on beyond his disastrous owl mask. “By the way you’re speaking, perhaps I should be careful with you.” He laughed, turning his body in her direction. “Are you one of the lake’s creatures, taking advantage of how many people have wandered too close to the water tonight?” His voice dropped as though he were sharing a secret, a playful smile lingering on his lips.
“A grievous crime against my modiste? That sounds serious. You must tell me exactly what my offense is, then. I’d hate to disappoint a lady before I’ve even seen her properly.” He tried adjusting his mask again, hoping to catch a better glimpse of her. He resisted the urge to simply push it up and look at her fully; ruining the illusion felt like too high a price. “That’s very kind of you.” He added, warmth softening his tone. “But I’m sure you have far better company waiting for you tonight than a man wrestling with feathers.”
Adelaide’s lips curved faintly — not quite a smile, more the ghost of one. Her eyes drifted over the feathers with amusement before she finally met his gaze again.“You don’t look ridiculous,” she said, voice low but threaded with dry humor. And laughter Merely...devilish dramatic. Though I suppose that’s rather the point of a masquerade, isn’t it?”her tone softened just a fraction as she adjusted one of the feathers near his temple, l “You wear it well,“ she reassured At his last question, her gaze flicked away toward the crowd — laughter, music, too many masks hiding too many truths. “Fun?” she echoed, “I think I’m starting to remember how to have that. But...” she looked back at him, expression gentler now, “I suppose it helps to have good company.”
Francis arched a brow in dramatic doubt, lips curving with a hint of challenge. “Not entirely sure I trust you.” He said, voice rich with playful suspicion. “No!” He protested, scandalized. “That is not the point of the masks, what do you mean? Their whole purpose is to hide identities and add mystery. They’re not meant to make us look ridiculous. Well, ideally... They’re meant to be charming and intriguing.” Despite the earlier inconvenience with the feathers, he did feel confident in his look tonight, subtle mystery be damned.
“Starting to remember? Just that?” His tone dropped into something mock-solemn. “I suppose, if I’m the good company you meant, then it’s my sacred obligation to help you have a good time.” He leaned in a fraction, eyes glittering behind the mask. “So tell me, what would you like to do for fun now? Dance? A little drinking contest?”
°•. ✿ .•° huffing softly, rachel was all pouty. she hated when people were rude, and most of the time, she wondered if it was her fault. her positive energy was one that not a lot of people understood. the world was full of so much difference and she wasn't always used to it. it didn't help that she liked to see the good in everyone, because not everyone wanted to show her the same kindness. as she lay her head on the counter, her blonde hair fell in front of her face, the curls haphazardly on her head, trying to hide her face.
"they really are! i just don't understand!" rachel complained as he placed the hot toddy in front of her. she hummed softly, taking a sip, allowing the warm tea to move through her body. "oh that's so good." when he asked what happened, rachel took another sip and then a deep breath before she started talking. "this lady came in and told us exactly what she wanted, how she wanted it to look, which flowers, and everything! then she comes back after we make it and tells us we did it wrong. how did we do it wrong when we did the exact thing she wanted? like i still don't understand? i've been going over it in my head and i don't know why she was mad, francis. like what did i do?"
It didn’t matter how many times Rachel wondered if other people’s behavior was somehow her fault, Francis would always made a point of reminding her that her good heart was never to blame. Being light would inevitably irritate those made of darker things; that was why it bothered him so much when people were rude to her for no reason other than her being energetic and bright.
He smiled, pleased by her compliment on the drink, happy she enjoyed it. Francis leaned over the counter slightly in her direction. “Let me tell you, I get that type of customer every now and then, you know?” And it wasn’t a lie. He’d had his fair share of impossible-to-please patrons. “They order a drink, I make it, and then they bring it back saying something is wrong.” He gestured with his hands, exasperated but amused. “The thing is: drinks have measures. Unless they ask for more or less of something, it’ll taste the same to anyone, that’s just how it works.” He continued, tone thoughtful.
“What I’ve concluded is that some people simply don’t know how to explain what they want. So instead of admitting it, they blame someone else, because they can never be wrong.” He let out a heavy sigh before offering her another reassuring smile. “So my guess? You didn’t do anything. She just wanted something she couldn’t articulate. And you can’t read her mind, right? If you know you did exactly what she asked, don’t let it get under your skin.”
"i...I wouldn't mind it even if you did!" lorelei tries to keep her smile from getting to giddy...too bashful, hands held behind her back and momentarily glances back to the store's glass window to spot her workers hiding from behind their desks, failing to keep in a laugh that she hopes he doesn't take the wrong way. they had spotted him before she had, having been preoccupied with counting their back stock on supplies before they rushed in, mentioning a handsome man looking for her with a bouquet in hand before practically pushing her out to meet with him, reassuring that they had it all under control themselves. it felt like an absolute dream, or like something off of a novel, even. "these are absolutely gorgeous, thank you...I actually love the color purple..."
"yes! are you? I have just the most perfect dress i've been waiting to wear and..." his small pause is enough for her excitement to spill over at the reminder of the exciting event to come when finally processing what he asks next, eyes widening in a bit of surprise and she's grateful that her coworkers couldn't see the pink that starts tinting her cheeks, unable to answer fast enough, now practically clutching the flowers as they both hold onto them. "yes! i-i mean, yes of course, i...I would love to!" she's now clearly trying to keep herself from moving around with joy. "is it alright that I already have a dress picked out?"
Taken by surprise by her words, Francis had to bite his bottom lip to keep his smile from growing too wide. “I’ll give you the chance to take that back.” He said between a soft chuckle. “I can talk a lot, you know?” He added, though he had no real intention of doing that now. He didn’t want to get her in trouble with her boss, and he could see her coworkers watching. That alone was enough to make his pulse quicken, the visible curiosity in their glances adding a layer of nervousness to his shoulders. But he took the blame for that. He had chosen to show up at that hour, after all. So no, he didn’t take her laughter the wrong way. “Do you really?” He was surprised that he had somehow picked the flowers in a color she actually liked, out of all the options he’d considered. “I just… Hoped they’d help persuade you. Glad you like them!” His tone was playful, laughing lightly between his words.
Francis knew he was setting himself up for trouble the moment his heart skipped a beat at how excited she looked. It was adorable, far too adorable for his own good. The amused smile faded from his lips when he noticed the flicker of shock on her face. His heart was racing again, though for a completely different reason this time. He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until she finally answered. And now he was the one left speechless, surprise written all over his expression.
“Really?” He asked in a quiet tone, just to make sure he’d heard her correctly. “Oh, brilliant!” He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face this time. “Absolutely! You just seemed so excited talking about it, how could it not be alright?” he said, his voice softening with every word. “Can’t wait to see you in it.” The words hung in the air for a moment longer than he intended. He could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks again, but there was no hiding it. “You’re going to look amazing." He added, quieter now, almost shy. The sincerity slipping through before he managed a small laugh to ease the tension.
that voice was m e l o d i o u s in her ears. she'd recognize it a n y w h e r e and in fact, she wanted to hear it more often. however, the engagement was off, and it'd broken her, and infuriated her. how could someone discard h e r ? ridley was not only absolutely beautiful, but she was powerful, and a great m a n i p u l a t o r. but perhaps that was what francis didn't like. either way, being at this part, decked out in a handmade gown with octopus features and a glorious dark purple mask, she was determined to show him what he was missing.
chortling, ridley leaned closer, hoping he'd smell the perfume she knew he once knew. "i made mine, so yours is tormenting you, love. and honestly, it's denying me the beautiful right of seeing such a handsome face." she was curious where he'd gotten it from, wondering how it could be so inconveniencing. "would you like me to help fix it, dear?"
The perfume was the first hint that told him who he was talking to. Still, Francis allowed himself a second or two before actually turning to face Ridley. The realization stirred mixed feelings; how could he ever forget that familiar scent, the one that carried so many good memories with it? He wasn’t heartless. He couldn’t just dismiss everything they had once shared. They had been planning a wedding not so long ago, after all. That was what made it so hard to even know what to say now. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to talk to her anymore.
"You're very kind, Ridley, dear. But I don't quite see how you could fix it," He said gently. It wasn’t that he wanted to refuse her help, he simply didn’t think there was much to be done about the mask. "I think the holes for the eyes are just a little too small... But I’ll manage. Thank you for offering, though!" His lips curved into one of his usual warm smiles, though he felt the heat rising faintly in his cheeks. Did he really deserve her kindness and her compliments after everything?
"You look lovely, by the way." Francis added after a moment, his tone genuine. "This dress is truly brilliant." He had always appreciated creativity, and he couldn’t help admiring the octopus-inspired design she wore. "Did you come up with the concept yourself?"
he nodded, unsurprised by the answer, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “ i’m still going to get the candy corn. the children need to learn to try new things, ” he said, tone mock-serious but eyes bright with amusement. “ when i was a kid, i was just glad to be getting free candy. didn’t matter if it was chocolate or sticky syrup pretending to be food. ”
his hands stilled for a beat at francis’s next words, that soft stumble over inviting someone. amir’s gaze flicked up briefly before darting away again, like looking too long might expose something. “ not just going but asking someone too, ” he repeated, his voice softer this time. a flicker of something like envy, or admiration, passed through him. why couldn’t he be like that ? someone who reached out, who let himself want openly. instead, he kept his own feelings tucked away, quiet and safe, hoping they’d somehow bloom without ever seeing the sun.
“ you’re a brave man, ” he said finally, a small, crooked smile appearing as he leaned an elbow on the counter. “ i hope they say yes. ” his brows lifted, then dropped again in a shrug that didn’t quite hide his discomfort. “ i think i have to go. got at least three threats if i don’t show up, ” he added with a dry laugh, “ but i wasn’t planning on it. parties aren’t really my thing anymore. ”
Francis raised his eyebrows in utter surprise at the man’s answer, as though he had just suffered some vile betrayal. “Then why did you ask me?” His tone carried genuine offense, or at least, it sounded that way. The whole thing was pure, harmless drama on his part. The only reason he didn’t clutch a hand to his chest was because both of them were full. The scene, however, didn’t last long; a warm laugh soon cut through it. “I get the feeling every child was like you, but then I remember I was a picky one myself…” He shrugged with an easy smile. “But go ahead with your idea, tell me if they actually enjoy the candy corn too.”
That smile faltered when the other repeated his words back to him, though. For someone who already wasn’t entirely sure he should do it, that little reaction felt almost like a warning. “Why? Is it bad? Do you think she’ll say no?” He asked, trying to sound casual, though the slight tension in his voice betrayed him. “I shouldn’t do it, right? The invitation didn’t even say to bring a date. Am I being too much?”
He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself again. “Sorry, I just-” He stopped, cheeks coloring faintly at the near outburst. Then, forcing a playful note back into his voice, he added: “Oh, make it a fourth threat, then.” His brows lifted, teasing. “What, you’re too old for themed parties now, is that it?”
Adelaide turned her head just enough to glance at him through the ornate lace of her mask, amusement tugging faintly at her mouth. The candlelight caught on the jeweled edge, casting soft glimmers over her face.
She adjusted her own mask delicately, eyes returning to the glittering crowd. “Mine seems cooperative enough. Perhaps it just knows better than to pick a fight with me.” A small pause — then, almost kindly, “Tilt it just a touch higher. I’d rather not have to guide you around looking like a lost prince all evening.”
Francis laughed, genuinely amused by her choice of words. It was funny, but she was right . For something that would be stuck to his face for most of the night, it had better know its place and not pick a fight with him. Still chuckling, he did as she suggested, adjusting the mask just slightly higher on his face. The feeling was odd, like something had shifted in the wrong way, but it actually helped a bit.
“That’s better, thank you! I don’t look ridiculous, do I? I mean, it’s already quite a mask with all the feathers... I don’t need to look strange on top of it.” The words came with a sheepish grin, a quick hand brushing through his hair. He was there with Lorelei, after all; looking insane was not part of the plan.
“Oh, what a wonderful friend I have.” He said with mock offense, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “But yes, I’d rather not be led around like a lost prince all evening. I’ll probably take it off at some point.” A small shrug followed before he looked toward her again, his expression softening. “Are you having fun?” He asked, leaning slightly to get a better look at her face.
"yes," roni sighs, pulling her lips together into a tight smile. "i'm breaking up with you." and she's just about ready to continue to rattle on about all the nice things she thinks of him to soften the blow but then he laughs. roni blinks in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. francis looked like he was about to cry but now he was laughing?! she didn't know what to make of it. honestly, she was ready to huff and take her hand back and question what was so funny, but then francis continues on and the anger dissipates.
"so, the feeling's mutual?" the relief floods roni in waves. "well, thank god! i've been feeling so guilty for blowing you off constantly and avoiding you has been really messing up my schedule. did you know i haven't had a glass of apple cider in weeks?!"
It was the firmness in her decision that stirred a quiet sense of admiration in Francis. In another situation, perhaps it would’ve broken his heart a little, but honesty was something he would always value. “Yes, the feeling is mutual.” He said, unable to help the small laugh that followed her surprise. “Listen, I love spending time with you, but I think we might’ve bitten off more than we could chew by trying to make it romantic. Don’t get me wrong, the makeouts were great! He added, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips as color rose to his cheeks.
“Well, that’s on you for being silly! You could’ve just talked to me earlier!” Francis teased, raising his voice in playful dramatics before laughing again. Then, his tone softened. He exhaled slowly and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “I mean it when I say I really like you, okay? And I hope this doesn’t change that. We don’t have to fall apart just because we’re not dating anymore. I’ll still make you clam chowder whenever you want.”
behind his own mask, jay nodded. gave a sympathetic wince. he'd chosen a black-feathered swan for his costume, both for the pure and poetic elegance of it, and mostly because it had been the best mask of the half-dozen left in the shop. slim pickings. most of the town seemed to be here tonight, and very keen on dressing up. “ i think it's the feathers, ” he remarked, all too willing to join in the complaining, even if just for solidarity's sake. “ i've stubbed my toe six times already. really, how's a person meant to dance? ”
Francis appreciated the solidarity of him joining in on his complaining, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he turned his head to look at the other man, or at least, as best as he could. “Possibly...” He admitted, brushing his fingers over the feathers of his mask, trying to make them settle better. “Oh, not with it, for sure!” He added, sounding thoroughly exasperated. “Besides, it takes away the magic of it, doesn’t it? I mean, there’s the fantasy of the masks, sure... But dancing’s better when you’re free to move around or… to look into the eyes of the person you’re dancing with.” Ever the hopeless romantic, it was hard for him not to romanticize that sort of thing. “So,” Francis asked after a moment, tilting his head slightly, “are you the type who likes to dance at parties, then?”
⋆ 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹⠀ ⠀⸺⠀at the masquerade, with @prtofthtworld .
As much as he never seemed to tire of having that thought, that Lorelei was so beautiful, over and over again, that night Francis simply could not take his eyes off her, mesmerized by how stunning she looked in that lovely green dress. The delicate pearls only enhanced her features, making her seem almost unreal beneath the soft glow of the numerous candles. It was impossible not to feel his heart tug here and there, just thinking about how lucky he was to have her as his date that night. As he extended his hand, inviting her to dance, a smile lingered on his lips. “You look stunning tonight, like something out of a dream.” He said, his voice low and meant only for her.
Once they stepped onto the dance floor, Francis moved with assurance, the kind that came from knowing how to dance. His hand rested firmly at her waist as he guided their steps, turning with her in smooth rhythm. The motion was easy, almost effortless, though he was certainly trying a little harder than usual, perhaps hoping she might notice. His gaze lingered on her face as they spun, not wanting to lose sight of her beautiful brown eyes or any of her reactions. It made something flutter in his chest, small and warm, like a secret he hadn’t quite named yet.
⋆ 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹⠀ ⠀⸺⠀before the masquerade, with @prtofthtworld .
"I promise I won't keep you long." He said softly, meeting her gaze in front of the Scarlet Closet. In his hands was a small bouquet of violets, simple yet thoughtful. He felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but it would have felt wrong to arrive empty-handed. His chest tightened at the thought she might already have a date, though there was nothing he could do if that were so. Still, he could not help the small frown that formed.
"I wondered… If you are attending the ball, the masquerade." He continued, voice gentle, a tentative smile brushing his lips. He paused, wetting them lightly, a soft breath to steady himself. "And if you would do me the honour of being my date… It would make the evening infinitely brighter." He added, handing her the flowers.
Perhaps Francis had seriously underestimated how much the mask could play tricks on his vision. Even with all the candles casting their warm, flickering light, he found himself tilting his head up and down like a curious bird, trying to judge how near or far anything was. He could, of course, lift the mask onto his hair, but then the whole outfit would be ruined. And really, what was the point of a masquerade if you weren’t actually wearing your mask?
“For heaven’s sake, I think I could see a ghost better than this!” He muttered to the person beside him, holding his hand in front of his face like a makeshift visor. “Is your mask tormenting you too, or did I just pick the one that’s trying to sabotage me?”
The woman listened to the other's not really thinking of that as a rambling, she has sort of asked for an answer of the sort so who would she be to say otherwise? At least the offer of a drink was one she would accept.
She had some jealously of how he had come into business. How would it be to have been raised by her parents? She was thankful to the woman who had educated her, but she still caugh herself in that train of though every now and then. Hopefully, they would be proud of her.
— Well, if you ask me they were right, you seem to be triving here, Francis. I'm not in any way shape or form saying I understand how it is to run your own business, but I definitely can see that you are doing an exellent job here.
As she followed to the counter, her lips were pressed together as she thought of how to answer that.
— Well, I suppose I always worry about the patterns and colors I choose for my crocheting, you'd be surprised how easy it is to mess that up. But my biggest worry would be my job too, dealing with other people's lives is no short of a challenge.
Her kind words slipped beneath his skin, leaving a soft blush across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was, admittedly, a rare pleasure to hear such genuine compliments. He wasn’t a man who sought them often, yet their effect was undeniable. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. Please, don’t make a grown man start stuttering in front of a beautiful woman.” He tried to mask his fluster with a playful, lightly flirty tone. Though the sincerity of the compliment lingered between them.
Francis listened attentively as she spoke, putting his knowledge to use while carefully preparing a Dubonnet Cocktail for her. He admired the deep ruby liquid, how it gleamed so richly in the light, the delicate twist of orange peel resting atop like a small, perfect flourish.
He chuckled softly at her words, a lingering smile curving his lips as he set the glass before her. “So you do crochet? That’s fascinating. I’ve always thought of it as such a beautiful, intricate art. Is it as difficult as it looks? I’m afraid I might lack the coordination for it.” Ironic, considering the dexterity with which he handled maritime knots. Perhaps delicacy simply wasn’t his forte. “Oh, I don’t doubt it for a second. It’s a gift, truly, working with people’s lives. Did you always want to be a nurse, or did life guide you there?”
" well i heard that someone in topaz terrace managed to get their phone line hooked up before everyone else and now they're 'accidentally' listening to other people's calls and blackmailing them. " nanisca grinned, lifting her brows. " lucky for me, i don't have a phone. any secrets worth stealing. " she gave a small shrug, leaning back in her chair. " seems like rich people always got someone tryin to take their money. sometimes i wish i had less of a conscience, though. there’s plenty of ways to make good money if you’re willing to get your hands a little dirty. " her smile softened then, almost self-deprecating. " but i’ve never been built for that. i’m the kind of fool who catches spiders and lets them outside. feeds people who can’t pay even if it means i go without. too soft-hearted to be cutthroat, i guess. "
The information took Francis more by surprise than he could have imagined when he agreed to hear what she had to say. His eyebrows lifted in honest shock, the teacup frozen halfway to his lips. “Oh, that’s very dangerous.” He said after a moment, already thinking about the sort of things he usually talked about on the phone. Nothing worth anyone’s attention, he hoped, but there were one or two people who might be in real danger. “How do you know about it?”
Finally, he took another sip of his tea before laughing softly at her next words. "How would get your hads dirty if you had less of a conscience?” He asked in a playful tone, curious about her answer, because he too had too much of a conscience to think about that.
“This isn’t being a fool.” He added quickly, his voice firm as his eyes lifted to meet hers. “It’s being a good person above everything else. And sometimes...” He smiled faintly. “A good heart can be a heavy thing to carry.”
°•. ✿ .•° truthfully a pub wasn't the type of place you'd usually find rachel, but on occasion, she needed a little pick me up. but there were a select few things that she drank and they had to be sweet or she'd make a face. this was one of those days. but the only reason she specifically picked the little rivers pub was because francis owned it. and she really just wanted to see him. people had been particularly cruel today and music and a drink would help. when she walked in and flopped at a bar stool, she meet the eyes of francis and huffed. "people are dumb and don't appreciate good bouquets! a drink is in order!"
Knowing it was a very uncommon place for Rachel to be, Francis frowned, worry flickering across his face the moment he recognized her figure. He excused himself from a quiet chat with a customer and made his way over, stepping behind the counter to reach her. Her words made his chest tighten. Rachel had a kindness about her that didn’t always fit with the world and it pained him every time someone dimmed it, even a little.
“People can be really dumb sometimes." He murmured, agreeing softly before asking anything else. He turned to prepare her a hot toddy with honey and lemon, something warm, sweet, and gentle on bad days. When he came back, he set the glass in front of her, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning in just slightly, his voice low and kind. “What happened, hm? Who made my favorite person sad this time?”
