[Rynthall Estate—Grand Staircase, Morning After the Great Awakening]
Lucien was bundled in no less than four blankets—no, scratch that—he was rolled like a gourmet sushi platter, currently being carried down the stairs in Silas's stupidly muscular arms like a delicate dumpling with trust issues.
And he was utterly dumbfounded.
"You know…" he began, peeking out of the layers like an angry burrito. "I have endured kidnapping, got whacked on the head, slipped into a ten-day hibernation coma, and fought off a serial-killer baker with a spatula."
Silas looked down at him mid-step, utterly calm despite cradling a fully-grown man wrapped like a festival offering. "Yes, my love. You mentioned all that. Twice. What's your point now?"
Lucien huffed. "The point, Sir Stoneface, is—I CAN WALK BY MYSELF RATHER THAN BE ROLLED AROUND LIKE AN EMOTIONAL MAKI ROLL!"
