Draven arched his brow at him, amused. Valentine was smart and quick-witted. He was the only living creature he had known capable of figuring him out—the only one who did not conclude he was mentally ill.
If he was cautious of anyone in the family, it was only Valentine. Somehow, even he feels that he has yet to completely figure this boy out.
They gazed at each other, and Draven abruptly shrugged. "Nothing."
"What?!" Valentine was bewildered. He fluttered his eyes in bafflement and laughed, confused. "What do you mean by "Nothing?"
"Nothing means nothing, Valentine! You are disturbing me!" Draven scowled at him and walked past him to leave.
But Valentine stepped in front of him, stopping him.
"You just lied, frère," he said.
Draven glowered. "I did not. I have no plan, at least not yet, so my response to you was not a lie."
