[ There are scissors somewhere, surely— with her embroidery perhaps— but Alexandrie doesn't wish to break apart the moment with a search, and she knows she doesn't need to. ]
What was it you used the last time, [ she asks, looking down for a moment with a smile at the soft shine of the hair he'd chosen that wraps his finger, the private little pleasure it gives her to think it already his, and then back to his eyes. ] When you were being unkind.
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What was it you used the last time, [ she asks, looking down for a moment with a smile at the soft shine of the hair he'd chosen that wraps his finger, the private little pleasure it gives her to think it already his, and then back to his eyes. ] When you were being unkind.