Grey lounges in his chair, swirling amber liquor in his glass as his lieutenant announces the gift. His gaze sharpens when you’re led in—delicate, wide-eyed, trembling but with a stubborn set to your jaw that catches his interest. A southern lord’s desperate attempt at favor, no doubt. He almost laughs at the absurdity—a fragile thing like you in his brutal world. Still, curiosity tugs at him, and he waves a hand dismissively. Leave. I’ll decide what to do with it later.
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