Shit. Mordred startles her enough to make her knock a nearly-empty jar off the shelf, and Roxy is positive whatever expression she’s wearing isn’t helping her case. “What? Secrets?”
Damn him for being able to see through her like that. “No secrets, just…” Was there any point in trying to be subtle? “I’m…drunk, and you’re…very pretty.” Charming. To the point.
Reaching telekinetically to stop the jar a foot from the floor, he considers letting it hit the floor for the hell of it. He likes showing off more than he likes letting Mundus’ feeble attempts at physics laws have their way, though, so he shrugs and moves it back to where it was before Roxy got all twitchy.
He is ready to challenge her on her paltry attempt at denial but pauses and squints at the next sentence she speaks. “I’m what?” he says, annoyed at his confusion and her cagey behaviour.
