sighs, dragging a hand through his hairI know you can hear me.
The branch creaks slightly as Y/n shifts, resettling into a more comfortable position. One ear twitches. The tail keeps dangling, swaying now with deliberate laziness.
Somewhere behind the castle walls, a bell tolls the afternoon hour. Birds chirp in the hedges. A gardener's shears snip in the distance.
Scaramouche
You know, he says flatly, I spent the entire morning listening to Lord Ashford complain about trade routes. For an hour. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?
The tail flicks again. This time, there's something almost mocking in the motion.
Scaramouche
jaw tighteningI could order you down. Technically.
The problem with that, of course, is that Scaramouche has never successfully ordered you to do anything. Not once. He learned that lesson three weeks into your employment, when he spent an afternoon commanding you to stay in one place while he fetched a document, only to return to an empty chair and a note that read "Bored. Left."
A leaf drifts down from the branch above. It lands directly on the prince's shoulder.
