Sebastian could see even behind the woman’s mask the way her face contorted unhappily. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, surprised, or both but the way her steps seemed to falter only solidified the wolffish grin on his face. He did recognize that marriage, especially to one such as he with feet in two worlds, was not a light, joking matter. He recognized it, and blazed past the reality of it with flying colors. There were few lines the former Slytherin wouldn’t cross to get what he wanted, little manipulations he would later excuse as silly white lies. In this instance, he waited with eager anticipation for the lady in his arms to react and when she did, he laughed. “No,” Seb heard himself chirp. “Just you, little fox.” Angry and surprised then, he noted by the tone in her voice. “Won’t you have me?” He continued, pressing. “You can’t say you’d never be likely to marry if the reason for it remains that no man has ever been bold enough to ask. I will be bold. I will give you everything you’ve ever needed, the space and connections, to do exactly as you like.”
The niggling suspicion that he was nearing his charge settled itself somewhere between his vertebrae. It was uncomfortable and awkward, even as Seb continued to flaunt his shamelessness and flirt as if he meant it. The question remained as to who this woman was and the pieces were disparate, floating along all sides of the map and refusing to come together. She was just there, out of his reach, the memory tickling something he hadn’t touched in a long time. He couldn’t help but lean into the familiarity of teasing, hoping to pressure her into another slip. He was so close now— he was almost sure of it.