"You're horrible." But it's not accusatory, it's not cold -- it's flirtatious, as Fate usually is, with half-lidded eyes and a devilish simper.
The king stood slouched over the war table, silken black hair spilled from his shoulders, pooling on the table like oil. The slightest crinkle in his eye did well to express his amusement, and the almost delighted hum that came after cemented that.
“Oh? And why is that so, mouse?”










