Hideaway Strath Synapses Snap Back in Blissful Anguish

She was cautious—an encouraging sign. Machiavelli's splotched lips curled into a hint of a smirk. Turning to his attendants, he drawled, his voice smooth, I believe two cuts of venison shall suffice. Oh, and do bring the wine. A few sprigs of mint leaves as well—thank you, my darlings.

Noticing their hesitation, he added with an airy, almost dismissive tone, You may go. I hardly think our guest would be so foolish as to attack me whilst we provide her dinner, hmm? Machiavelli's gaze flicked to Zitari, lingering on her with a pointed look, checking for any flicker of reckless intent. He allowed a small, amused smile to grace his lips as his disciples departed.

Only once they were alone did he speak again, his tone softened, though no less refined. You have found me in a mood for company, however, if you find yourself wary of such... generosity, he began, his voice lilting with measured politeness, affable smile unwavering, perhaps we might strike a bargain instead? A meal... in return for a favor. Is that less suspicious? He cocked his head to the side as he settled onto his haunches, turning his body subtly away from her so the gash in his leg was not quite so visible.