Divided as his attentions was between her and the fruit, and her nursely ministrations with the napkin, Hadrian flinched away from her and pulled a betrayed expression. The expression might have come off better if he didn’t still have a chunk of horned melon (kiwano, to the native cultures; the African horned cucumber, to those at home) stored up in his cheek like a lopsided squirrel.
“Are you laughing at me, Cordelia?” She was almost always Delia, if not treated to a petname; Cordelia for special cases. Like this one. What magnificent betrayal. “I almost starved to death, and you’re laughing at me?” He didn’t believe her afterthought of sympathy, and narrowed his eyes at her to express this. If his stomach lurched a little in the moment, well – maybe a lingering clump of undigested leather was betraying him, too.
“Are you laughing at me, Cordelia?” She was almost always Delia, if not treated to a petname; Cordelia for special cases. Like this one. What magnificent betrayal. “I almost starved to death, and you’re laughing at me?” He didn’t believe her afterthought of sympathy, and narrowed his eyes at her to express this. If his stomach lurched a little in the moment, well – maybe a lingering clump of undigested leather was betraying him, too.
set by bee!