Briefly I wonder how long exactly it took him to get to sleep.
That is until I realise he was never asleep to begin with.
"You might want to keep better control over those eyes, chérie, they seem to have a habit of wondering," comes a honeyed coo from the arm chair as at last the Devil stirs from his slumber, his dazzling lilac eyes half lidded against the light that pours in from the window. Flexing out his back and wings with an audible popping noise, Valerian arises from his chair with a tuneful grunt, straightening the collar of his shirt as he does so.
Somehow, I manage to maintain eye contact after such an accusation, my blood boiling with a mixture of emotions that are too numerous to decipher.
