Lion Head Mesa [M]No filter on your mouth

Machiavelli returned to a stand, his voice carrying a subtle scoff, Stay with you? His inquiry came with a faint, dismissive click of his tongue. Surely you can recall what I told you last time, darling.

Besides, piercing eyes of cold glass stared from between cracks in a porcelain face, I had assumed you found me an undesirable companion. Puppeteer tilting doll head to gaze down at the little jackdaw bowing before him.

I must say, I am dreadfully confused. He murmured, voice unnaturally composed.