Lion Head Mesa [M]No filter on your mouth

Eyes lifted from the figure on the floor, anxiously scanning the corridor. That's up to you to decide, dear. I can't tell you what to care about, Machiavelli uttered softly, returning his gaze downward to meet hers, an uncomfortable expression etched across his features.

Legend, darling, I implore you to get off the floor; if anyone sees you, they'll think you're begging.