Cherion slumped into a velvet chair that felt far too expensive for someone currently contemplating his own mortality, and his sudden, inexplicable career change into magical medicine. He was in the Alpha's study now, spine straight, hands folded in his lap like a well-behaved portrait subject, while the man in question occupied the chair opposite him
Praise the heavens, the man was finally fully clothed in a dark tunic that hugged his shoulders in a way that was frankly distracting. It was much easier to negotiate when one wasn't trying to maintain eye contact with a man's well-defined abs.
Zarius leaned forward, gaze fixed on him with the sort of attention that made people confess to crimes they hadn't committed yet. "You're remarkably self-assured for someone who, just ten minutes ago, looked like he'd stumbled onto his first power by accident. You expect me to trust my life to a man who was surprised his own finger didn't fall off?"
