Phoenix Maplewood #Not All Beards

mahler regarded his companion with a rapidly growing sense of dismay uncoiling like a parasite in his belly. he wanted no more than to be immediately shut of her, but propriety demanded he not simply turn and walk away. her scorn bit at him like a lash, and though mahler felt he had nothing for which to be ashamed, guilt had begun to creep along his spine.
"no," the gargoyle rejoined, more abruptly than before. wanting to echo his earlier sentiment of did you? but cognizant he would only be mocked for it, mahler straightened. "vhere you hunting?"
it was a question in which he envisioned his freedom; no meant mahler could state he was hunting, and continue, while yes suggested he should graciously leave her to it. rather relieved, he settled the cool lilac of his stare on the woman and waited.