Azalea Oleander Cursix.
It was evening now, and the dim crystal light inside the carriage provided little warmth.
“Gods, my feet are sore.” I said as I crossed my legs, “I had no idea things would get that busy.”
A lie, of course, but anything to start up a conversation with the homesick looking adonis opposite my position.
Only he did not bite.
“HEY!” I called, then poked him with my foot, “HEY! What are you so pouty about?”
“Pouty?”
“Yes, you have not smiled once, except on camera,” I said, “Oh, do not tell me you wish to be one of those disingenuous celebrities.”
“What? What are you even talking about?”
“I can not even tell you for sure,” I said honestly, “I am exhausted from all the public appearances! We have literally been up and about since yesterday? While your all but di
