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something that she couldn't identify, but yet in her memory, neither fear or anger were nowhere to be found.
And when he held her wrist to lead her to the table, her skin should've broke out in icky goosebumps and she should've told him off for touching her, but why could her brain only manage to remember to slight roughness of his palm on her chocolate outer envelope? And the fact that she kind of liked it. And when he threatened her to not cry again, why was it that now, she could only manage to recount the color of his pupils, and the way his voice along with his gaze, made her feel like a dainty damsel too curious about the knight she had encountered? And for all the wrong reasons.
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