There were some things that occupied one's mind and grasped it so hard that nothing else particularly mattered—someone caught in an illusion, some kind of entrancing artifact that beseeched the eyes. And perhaps love?
Infatuation rather.
"Hmm? What was that Donovan?"
"It's nothing, Sir Leon."
"Alright then."
No more words were exchanged even as they arrived into the courtyard at last. The group even had to walk slower or else have the usually quick-footed Noble get left behind.
He walked leisurely.
Angelika Primrose had never seen Leon de Harrington ever so lost in his thoughts that it was as if she was talking to an entirely new person. A rather absent-minded one. And it wasn't only her who had noticed it, even Donovan did and so did Diov.
