[ For the briefest of moments, Sylvain’s expression softens as he stares down into his ale, swirling the liquid around in his tankard before flitting an almost hesitant gaze across the table at the man with him. ]
Full of regrets yet?
[ His lips quirk crookedly, sardonic humor layered in his tone, his expression carefully bemused. ]
no subject
Full of regrets yet?
[ His lips quirk crookedly, sardonic humor layered in his tone, his expression carefully bemused. ]