Rita was behind him, standing a little too close for comfort, her long coat buttoned tight despite the warm ballroom and a thick wool scarf coiled around her neck like a snake.
"Saintess," Lucius greeted, voice calm but his face said otherwise, he was uncomfortable.
He met her eyes, and for a moment, he regretted doing so.
When you looked at her properly — when you ignored the little detail that she kept a collection of castrated men under her basement like trophies, The Saintess didn't look all that terrifying at all.
She looked ordinary, almost gentle, her expression soft in a way that felt dishonest. Alas she was a perverted fuck which deserved to be banished to the depths of hell.
"You're looking beautiful today," he said finally. Words polite enough to not be insulting, but they both knew that he didn't actually mean it… Even if she was looking stunning.
Her eyes widened slightly at the compliment before flicking down at her plain coat.
