The Fiend was already at the door before Dulce could even speak, "Who is looking for a figh…" He trailed off in bright-eyed wonder when he saw Dulce glaring up at him.
Dulce didn't have to call them individually for dinner, falling into ingrained habits without even realizing it.
Asael met his cold invitation to dinner with curious silence, the Shadow Demon seemed to have gone back to watching him with the same thoughtful vigilance he had when they first met.
Dulce wore only a waistcoat, the buttons on his sleeve and collar undone. With his hair down, he was like a flower in full bloom, his cold eyes promising danger.
He sat down at the head of the table, his jaw resting against his elbow as he waited for the servants to serve them.
It was difficult to completely ignore the intense gazes trained on him - yet to settle down and go through his reabsorbed memories - they were so familiar, yet not.
