She seemed perfectly amused by him, judging by her expression, so when she swung wildly in the other direction – overt discomfort – he was a little surprised by it. Not because Millie wasn’t generally anxious that way, but because he hadn’t yet fathomed what he’d done to cause it.
Oh, there it was: her stammering made that plain. His siblings – even his parents, perhaps – might have delighted in the suggestion of coming to deflate him in one way or another, by interruptions or general mockery. But of course to Millie it was a nightmare.
He bestowed upon her a fond smile instead. “I was only joking, Sophie,” Endymion said affably. He would never ask anything of her to make her uncomfortable. “But you could give me a signal from afar. A tug of your collar, if you like,” he said – still teasing, gesturing at the way she’d just fidgeted with it. She could get away with that.
But he grinned wider to assure her he didn’t mean it, and relaxed his shoulders and his stance in the quiet hope she might mirror him enough to do the same. A glance down at himself caught another problem with his costume, one he hadn’t gotten to in his moment of mirror-gazing. “You could help me with these, though,” he said seriously, gesturing at the mis-buttoned buttons of his tunic, and his own collar buttoned up at different heights from it. That was much more in the realm of her usual duties, to his mother – and it was an easy joke at his own expense, to prove that he really wasn’t in danger of getting big-headed. “It seems I’ve struggled to dress myself.”
Oh, there it was: her stammering made that plain. His siblings – even his parents, perhaps – might have delighted in the suggestion of coming to deflate him in one way or another, by interruptions or general mockery. But of course to Millie it was a nightmare.
He bestowed upon her a fond smile instead. “I was only joking, Sophie,” Endymion said affably. He would never ask anything of her to make her uncomfortable. “But you could give me a signal from afar. A tug of your collar, if you like,” he said – still teasing, gesturing at the way she’d just fidgeted with it. She could get away with that.
But he grinned wider to assure her he didn’t mean it, and relaxed his shoulders and his stance in the quiet hope she might mirror him enough to do the same. A glance down at himself caught another problem with his costume, one he hadn’t gotten to in his moment of mirror-gazing. “You could help me with these, though,” he said seriously, gesturing at the mis-buttoned buttons of his tunic, and his own collar buttoned up at different heights from it. That was much more in the realm of her usual duties, to his mother – and it was an easy joke at his own expense, to prove that he really wasn’t in danger of getting big-headed. “It seems I’ve struggled to dress myself.”
