Shadow Mountain Wire

waiting on edge for season three with HELD BREATH

a flourish. an invitation. lestan no longer found the ability to ignore such an expression, the gaze that scrutinized his own with a specific intrigue.
all for himself! for the evening! and not even to speak at length of the caribou murderers.
quietly he allowed himself to glance with lingering wonder into the sculpted face, lingering with a particularly raptured nature upon the singularly adorant mouth forming words that still confused lestan. 
but there was no sleight-of-hand in the magnificent Mephistopheles; in fact, winter's wake spoke with such direction that even an easily bowled-over man such as the mayfair might comprehend to a degree unignorable.
"yes," and his voice was a shy sunny thing in the frigid atmosphere. "i should l-like to know more about you," lestan admitted, a thrill tingling to life in his trepidatious belly, holding those eyes as long as he dared.