Alpheo took another bite of the pear, the only single thing in this entire suffocating room that he actually liked. As the sweet juice hit his tongue, the faint, polite smile that had been tugging at his lips died a cold, quiet death.
There were very few things in this world that Alpheo genuinely liked, and a similarly short list of things he truly detested. High on that black list were men who came beseeching him for something that was not theirs to claim, and the displeasure doubled if they were eyeing something he personally treasured. For too long what had been rightfully his , had been belonging to other men.
Never again.
He swallowed the mouthful down his throat, regarding the meddlesome old man across the table with a gaze that carried all the warmth and sweetness of rancid milk.
Heretics, was it?
