LOREN
Loren placed the back of his hand on his forehead, leaned back in his chair, and sighed dramatically. ”That’s me, a delicate flower, prone to wilting at the first sign of resistance.” That was definitely not true, as Phoebe should know from the way the summoner had argued with her earlier. But the image was hopefully a funny one to her. He was a bit rusty with humor, but he’d always been good at putting himself down. At least he was getting some laughs out of it this time. Thankfully, she let the comment about his living conditions go. As she spoke about her time at school, however, he gave her a sympathetic look. ”That’s awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. And if those noblewomen were here right now, I’d have a conversation with them about the virtues and qualities that make someone truly noble, like you.” Granted, he didn’t possess many of those properties himself, but he knew where he was lacking. Besides, it seemed the appropriate thing to say.
Unlike what he was about to say to her next. ”I appreciate the offer, but you should save your tonics for those that need them.” More than him, at least: he was beyond saving, and she shouldn’t waste what little time she had left on someone like him. Besides, she had denied him supplies earlier and he didn't necessary trust this turnaround, not completely. How she’d gone from yelling at him and telling him he was a monster for how he’d treated Remi to offering the Launceleyn medicine, he didn’t know. But if he had to leave her with the impression that he was indeed the monster she’d thought at first, to keep her safe from him, he’d do it.
He was getting depressingly good at it. Or maybe he’d always been good at it, and his ability to suppress that part of his nature had atrophied in his time away.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
