It was a visual feast.
Baring her back with her upper clothing completely taken off, her slightly voluptuous figure was taken in at a glance.
The lady with the bun held her chest with one hand.
But one hand simply wasn't enough.
Half-hidden, half-exposed.
From the slight side angle, one could clearly see the mischievous pride squeezed out from her arm.
Its curve was proud.
Its line soft and beautiful.
It was a lovely sight.
Leonard Churchill had noticed Tracy Garcia's impressive figure when they were in the Grand Cemetery Labyrinth. Now, he saw it up close.
But after a quick glance, he retracted his appreciative gaze.
The moon was brilliant, and it'd seem hypocritical and ill-mannered to not look at it.
But too much would be crass and disrespectful.
...
Leonard Churchill finished applying the ointment, "There, done."
Tracy Garcia softly replied: "Oh."
