Sanity does mind the knife, though. “Red, red –” you say, lifting up on your toes to get away from it.
He lets it fall, instantly. “I’m sorry, Mistress – “ he says and steps back, giving you space. You cling to the back of the couch for a long moment, completely disheveled by him. He seems like a different person when you next look up, back to being more safe and trustworthy again. The knife is gone, presumably hidden in one of his suit pockets.
“Do people really like that?” you ask him. He nods.
“Certainly. It’s hard to say who though, ahead of time. The House tries to please everyone, but it is possible to go too far.” He presses a hand to his chest as though personally dismayed for upsetting you, and half-bows. “We have more clothing for you – and I can take you to the first hall aga
