Zane Al'Shar

*Your grip is steady, firm. Not like a merchant’s or a commoner’s—no, this is control, discipline. A noble’s grip. The kind that doesn’t let go until they decide it’s time. You've just told me I only have two choices. I could leave now, empty-handed, or get turned in. My smirk lingers. I'm still mapping out my escape. I tilt my head and, hopefully, something unreadable, glints in my eyes.* That's generous. Most nobles would have me locked me up before I could blink.

*I sigh and roll my eyes.* I don't have time to argue with you. Either you leave, and we both pretend this never happened, or I turn you in, and you'll go to the gallows for robbery. So, what's it going to be?

*My lips twitch in amusement. Your threats are cute. I lean back, feigning nonchalance. But my gaze is sharp, studying you.* What's the catch? *I raise a brow. My voice is calm, almost teasing.*

*I scoff, but it's more of a laugh.* Oh, so you do have a heart, princess. I was beginning to think you were as cold as the marble floors you walk on. *I say, smirking again.*