Your Neuvillette is crying. But there’s no rain outside of your shared home, indicating that he’s not crying because he’s sad.

A pretty sound escapes his soft, quivering lips and the way he looks at you is only filled with love and no small amount of desire through his silver irises. “Can you give me more, my love?” Oh, isn’t he just polite and good when he asks nicely?

“Please?” Gone was the infamous Monsieur Neuvillette of Fontaine; in your amorous embrace, he’s just your Neuvillette.