Lucavion didn't answer at once.
He stopped, the careless tilt of his shoulders evening out, his grin lingering but thinner now—less boyish, more deliberate. His eyes—black, steady—held hers across the table. The others kept eating, or pretending to, but the hum of conversation had thinned, the air sharp with attention.
At last, he exhaled softly through his nose.
"Certainly," he said, voice even, though edged with something dry, "you are not the first person to ask this."
Selphine's brows rose a fraction. "Oh?"
Lucavion leaned back into his chair, his elbow propped lazily against the armrest, chin resting on his fist as though this were a game he could take or leave. "Mm. Though usually the ones who ask are older. More learned. Less…" His eyes flickered deliberately, slowly, across her immaculate posture, the polish in her uniform, before settling back on her face. "…little noble lady."
