Stone, herself, couldn’t help but give a grin of smugness. People like these were always wise to know, and hell, she’d lived, hadn’t she? There was no reason not to feel something other than apprehension for once. “If you don’t want them, Miss Knight of the Peace,” the pale girl began, “I’ll end up taking them home with me to my dear, sick mother and my poor little brother.”
‘Because, why not?’ she smirked internally.
“Good Sir Altair,” she said, turning her head toward the long-haired man, “Thank you ever so much for letting me take some of your departed, magnificent, great-great-grandfather’s… stash.” Magnificent had come out sounding more like MAG-nuh-FUH-send, which she was none the wiser of, and she had fallen short on the end of it, which she was the wiser of, but all in all, there was no reason for Stone to feel she had to embellish more than she already had. After all, the world was pretty sweet right now.
“Should we be off soon, then? Wilcar, do you need help with… what it is you’re doing?” The sweetness Stone was creating in her voice was getting to her, and the faster she could get out of here—to drop the act, to get home to Audren, to enjoy some relaxation, to bathe—the better.