A DAMNING PAUSE, too much time spent thinking. Feet firmly planted, he could easily STAY. But what could that possibly look like ?? Dmitry, a poor THIEF, an old Russian scoundrel with —— H E R ?? He learned to give up on fairytales long ago. Lips curl into a narrow line, hand tugging down his cap, digits ruffling though messy auburn locks / hope lost. “&& what ?? Wait to find you in another crowd of thousands ??” He was no prince, after all. If the truth didn’t choke, the con man would have LAUGHED.
“There’s no place for me here Anya ( a gulp, throat cleared ) your highness.” He corrected, fulling know well the expectations of royalty. “Better to leave && for you to pretend I was just a —— dream.” @againrisen // con’t.
