"These," he says slowly, likely for my sake, as he gestures around the room. "Are my quarters. Unfortunately, I didn't think you were going to make it to yours- the maids will be so disappointed. But if you protest in me keeping you here, by all means you may leave. Of course, that would probably be a questionable decision for-" he cuts off, jolting in alarm as I lie on my back, beginning to conjure little tiny sparks from the tips of my fingers, giggling at the patterns they make as they whizz through the air. Gently, Valerian closes his hand over my own.
"...for obvious reasons," he finishes, his brows furrowing as I hiccup once, before feeling a gorge rise in the back of my throat, my head spinning like a roundabout. Quickly, I swallow down before whatever threatens to spill from my throat can actually come up with an audible gulp, giving him a dizzy and unconvincing smile. To this, the Devil looks only more concerned.
