Night of the Rogues: Trapped with the Enemy
he enquired gently, his hands buried in the soapy bubbles.
“Yeah, I don’t sleep well on a Full Moon,” quickly plunging my teapot, strainer, cup and spoons in. I heard a soft chuckle. “Then we match,” he said with a grin and lifted his hands out of the bubbles. A small black teapot. I gasped, “Monks…”
“Pepper yes,” he replied, adding with a sigh, “It’s a lifesaver.”
“Oh I know!” and we fell into conversation. There was something calming about Reu. The ice white hair and cold blue eyes were his armour. Underneath, perhaps we were not too dissimilar if we both felt the need to drink the foul-smelling tea.
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