"Skills?" Sinclair asked, "What is this skill you speak of, my master?"
Coco halted from continuing her tale as Sinclair chimed in, his perplexed question cutting through the air, naming Zaque who was still tidying Coco's appearance, paused, his attention turning to Sinclair.
Quizen and Zaque exchanged a fleeting glance, their muscles tensing instinctively.
Quizen's jaw clenched ever so slightly, his eyes scanning the male before them with narrowed eyes, eyeing the hybrid with a scrutinizing gaze.
Meanwhile, Zaque's hands gradually gliding down to Coco's cheeks, his fingers gently securing her face in a soft grip, the action appeared almost subconscious, as if a protective reflex had taken over.
Zaque's expression remained guarded, his eyes locking momentarily with Quizen's, a silent understanding passing between them— that if anything happens, they will both jump at Sinclair to silence him, in the name of protecting their wife's reputation.
