In this scenario's genre, it seemed the mold of Cecilia's and Eastiel's pair was a rich woman and a handsome ordinary man.
You see, a lady in a gown, fresh from a billionaire's divorce, stepping out of a beat-up truck with a golden-haired welder who looked like he had walked off a garage exhibition photoshoot.
Quite scandalous indeed.
Eastiel, for his part, did not seem to care. He led her down the street like he knew exactly where he was going, pausing at the windows of boutiques so she could look inside and choose.
Cecilia didn't have time to appreciate the architecture this time. But as they walked, she noticed things in fragments. There were buildings that looked old by this world's standards, like brick and stone and weathered facades that spoke of decades, perhaps centuries, of use.
