Ah, being called a jackass... he missed that dearly. As well a naiad princess prod anywhere in the vicinity of his person.
And there was the hook, long, lacquered and sure, that pulled, urged, thwarted the comedian off stage. He was a great many things but a liar was not among them, thus he did not miss the lightning cue after the thunder. "I'm married." the drawl of wind before a whiplash of electricity spoke to the seafoam stowing away against the drooping limbs of willows on a lake. Would that throw the maiden, white chiffon flailing in descent, golden girdle braid undoing for the sun, into the gladiators pit among the lions? Or would she keep her station next to the King. There was challenge in how he kept up his stride, an invite with a glossy vignette of geometrically sound smiles and reassurances. Had he been untrue to her? Nope.
"I'd cross-dress under the right circumstance."
After all, wasn't this just coffee? Speak of the devil and Pete's will appear. The gauntlet grasped the steel handle boasting a separation between he, and his heavenly Americano. A few people fled while there was a free opened door.