EmmaThe dinner went on. I went full-on mime mode, mesmerized by my mashed potatoes like they were some kind of abstract art installation. Seriously, I was all in. Just me, my fork, and an imaginary world where small talk didn’t exist.Was I meant to break the ice or just vibe in silence until His Furriness decided to grace me with conversation? Seriously, where’s the chapter in Emily Post for awkward meals with supernatural monarchs? Spoiler, there isn’t one.And even if it were, this situation felt… different. It felt too personal and too strange.So I chose silence. It felt safer.Alexander ate like he had all the time in the world. Not in that slow, look-at-me way… just… controlled. Almost too chill, actually. Every movement had this weird sense of purpose. It was like he was following some private ritual. Not for show. Actually, that’s what made him so damn unnerving. And, I gotta admit, kind of badass. Meanwhile, my food? It was basically untouched. I stabbed at it, made mys
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