Yuuta lowered his head until his chin nearly touched his chest, his back curved in a deep bow that would have made the butlers of old England proud. His voice, when he spoke, was formal and measured, each word carefully chosen to convey the proper respect of a servant addressing his master.
"My master, this humble servant stands ready to serve at your command."
He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to look up at the woman lounging on the sofa. He could feel her gaze on him, sharp and amused, and he knew that she was enjoying this far more than she should. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of her turning a page in the book she had abandoned beside her.
