"I wonder what we should call someone who does that."
Vera gently rested her index finger against her cheek as though she had been presented with a difficult academic question.
Her eyes drifted toward Desmond.
She looked at him from head to toe before quietly humming to herself.
"Trash sounds appropriate..."
She paused again.
"No..."
Her expression remained calm as she continued thinking aloud, appearing completely serious about finding the most suitable word.
"Perhaps there is something worse."
She spoke so naturally that anyone unfamiliar with her would have believed she was genuinely searching for the correct vocabulary rather than trying to insult someone in front of half the ballroom.
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
Her calm delivery somehow made them even more effective.
Willow slowly turned her head toward her younger brother.
The coldness in her eyes deepened.
Desmond immediately felt the pressure of that gaze.
