"Knives make the cock that much better, lamb." Crystalline eyes inspected every step she made whether toward him or around him. He let her have her inspection, knowing that it was more a sign of respect than one most would confuse for love. Humans craved labelling them with more emotion than they bothered with. He protected his childer and hers but not in a mama bear manner but in an expectation of cunning.
"It had been suggested to me after the third month here, but blue and white bring out my eyes more." As much as the words were said in jest, it was a simple truth anyone with an eye for beauty would have. "And the witches mostly seem to fuck each other with magic and then use the rest of it to move the Cirque or do whatever jobs they have. Though I am rather disappointed that there are not mending Fae about. Taking one in the back of her shop is one thing, but creating more work amongst the costumes might be amusing while drinking from them."
Byron smirked. She was just how he had left her. No matter the time or distance away from one another, they were each always the same upon return. "When your best quality is killing people, maybe he thought you would know better than most how to fix clothes," Byron paused, looking down at his darling girl with the same kind of strange pride he had always given her. "Or he thought it in poor taste to hand you a knife like he had me."