Zib took slow, tentative steps toward Dila, his boots scraping gently against the metal floor. His hands fidgeted nervously, thumbs rubbing against each other, and his shoulders hunched just slightly like he was trying to shrink his frame.
"Y-You know what, Princess…" he began, forcing a smile that trembled at the edges. His voice cracked slightly. "For now… maybe let's just—refrain from crafting custom potions in my alchemist smithing lab, alright? Just… for now."
He chuckled, awkward and dry, eyes closing tightly as sweat visibly ran down his temples.
"How about… I give you some of my own power potions instead?" he continued, the smile stretching wider in forced optimism. "O-Or any of the others I've made already—ones that don't, uh… bleed mist or melt metal tables or possess people with unknown energy, haha…?"
He rubbed the back of his head, trying to keep it light, but his trembling fingers betrayed his nerves.
