Mikhailis's lips twitched. "You'd make a fantastic traveling companion if you'd just lighten up a bit, you know."
He snorted softly, half in humor, half in exasperation. Rodion's dryness is part of his charm. Without wasting another breath, he seized the opening, sprinting forward in near silence. The darkness embraced him, and the cloak shifted fluidly as he dashed behind the battered remains of a statue that had once graced the hall's courtyard—some now-forgotten merchant figure, broken at the waist, forever cast down into rubble.
