The exact timing that Tycondrius asked his question was... unfortunate. The young, Holy Lancer, Tanamar was leisurely drinking water from his cup. In the silver-haired footman's surprise, he abruptly expelled his drink, spewing the contents of his mouth forcibly outward.
Too late to dodge, Tycon shot his palm forward, holding it ilms away from the young man's mouth... which deflected the liquid. As a result, the footman's face and hair were overly drenched.
"Tycon? What the hells?" The youth glared, wiping his face.
Tycon retrieved a handkerchief from his spatial ring, proceeding to wipe his palm clean... "I'm assuming the answer is no, but it seemed socially correct to lead my inquiries in a... neutral manner, rather than a negative one."
It was important to not insult a human's ability to find a mate... a probable or true as it was. Humans were very prideful, after all.
"None of that is socially correct!" Tanamar growled.
