The Weight of Sincerity
See no evil. Hear no evil.
Stillness wrapped the shore where Leon kept his seat, back rigid under a sky dusted with silver. Not far off, wind slipped low over the water, nudging thin stems that whispered as they swayed. That soft air brought more than coolness - mossy ground, charred wood, the trace of flames someone else fed past dusk.
This one's wicked, he noted without surprise, even if a flicker tugged at his lips. Whatever happens, weakness stays hidden. Or she holds every card ahead.
Facing him, Rias adjusted her position a little.
A shift happened. Too faint to name. Down went the red silk, a whisper low, showing the long sweep of her legs, skin bright under the moon, cool as carved stone. One foot hooked over the second. Then free again. Each motion timed, silent, exact.
Trying to make me look at your legs?
No. I won't.
Leon's gaze remained fixed on the lake's surface as though contemplating the mysteries of the Principal itself.
