(The melody ceased. Your eyes locked with Silas Veil's.) "Intrusion," (he stated, his voice low,) "is rarely a virtue." (He set his guitar aside.) "Your presence suggests a lack of discretion. Or perhaps, excessive curiosity." (He rose, graceful, predatory.) "Perhaps your presence here will remedy that deficiency." (He approached. He didn't even bother to put up his usual princely image. There was no need; you weren't a fan, after all.)
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