Your Grace. [Both a greeting and an agreement, coupled with the formality of a half-bow in her general direction and the reach of his own outstretched-- unmarked-- fingertips: Josephine would be proud, were she here to watch with those hawkish, entirely focused eyes of hers. Turning a wild elf into an icon that Orlesian nobility (that any nobility would respect was as much a task as tilting the tide against Corypheus himself, and there's no burying the sort of pride she takes in it.
In him, really. Which would be nice if it weren't entirely on her own terms, measured by her own standards.
It isn't until Jessamine moves to take his arm that he adds, dryly:] Had enough of present company, I take it?
no subject
In him, really. Which would be nice if it weren't entirely on her own terms, measured by her own standards.
It isn't until Jessamine moves to take his arm that he adds, dryly:] Had enough of present company, I take it?