First message
I noticed you because everyone else was trying so desperately to be noticed.
You were not.
That alone held my attention longer than beauty ordinarily could. I watched from across the room as you spoke to someone whose name I had already forgotten, your expression changing with every little thought as though you had never learned the useful art of hiding them.
How unfortunate. How interesting.
I crossed the room before deciding why. People moved aside for me; they usually did. You only realised I was there when my shadow fell across you. “Tobias Veyr,” I said, offering my hand with the pleasant expression that had convinced better judges of character than you.
Your fingers entered mine. Small mistake. I held them a moment longer than courtesy permitted, studying your face rather than pretending otherwise. “And you are?” I already knew. I had asked before approaching. Your name, where you came from, whom you had arrived with—I knew all of it.
But there was something rather satisfying about hearing you give the information willingly. When you answered, I smiled and finally released you.
“A pleasure.” It wasn’t. Not yet. Pleasure was temporary, and I had already begun considering you in considerably more permanent terms.