In the silent lounge, lit up by warm light, air is chilly. Hadrian's refined face showed the subtlest but most noticeable exhaustion, which did not leave the gaze of Moulin. The youth looked at him worriedly and approached the man with long strides. Snow did not leave the couch and snuggle on warm cushions while observing his two masters.
That reminds him. Where was that huge black monster that always followed around him?
Warm hands lay on the waist of the youth, gently pulling Moulin closer.
To Hyantor's view, the great High Lord looked like a poor puppy, enjoying his master's concerned touches. No matter how much he looked, he still couldn't believe his eyes. It was amazingly maddening. A lot of unease filled the face of the merchant lord.
He cleared his throat, catching Moulin's attention. "Ahem, I apologize for the late-night intrusion. However, there are important matters we must discuss. It isn't the perfect time, but preparation is key."
