She had half a mind to tell him to get the fuck out. He was rude, he was invasive, all in all Eli Monnrow was proving to be an awful guest and her patience for his testing her boundaries and ignoring social norms that he otherwise seemed like he ought to have known (since when did strange men think it appropriate to invade a woman's room?). Furious and feeling somewhat threatened (what had he meant to accomplish? Was he going to rob her? Did he mean her harm? Who was he spying for?) she glared at him, meeting his gaze.
His apology was not an apology but an excuse and earned no brownie points, only a finger jabbed toward the doorway, the pot resting against her hip. "I offered you a drink, not free run of my home. Who do you think you are? Get out before we see if that queen's guard is actually good for anything."
His apology was not an apology but an excuse and earned no brownie points, only a finger jabbed toward the doorway, the pot resting against her hip. "I offered you a drink, not free run of my home. Who do you think you are? Get out before we see if that queen's guard is actually good for anything."
