Andrephus sneered as he walked through the grimy streets of the Greed Ring. Filthy, vulgar imps skittered about, their beady little eyes darting to and fro like the vermin they were. Ugh. He could hardly stand to look at them.

How could anyone of his caliber—so devastatingly handsome—even entertain the thought of associating with such wretched creatures? He was not his sister’s pathetic, ex-husband, throwing away centuries of noble prestige for some vulgar little plaything. His feathers ruffled at the very notion. And yet…he found himself summoning you to his manor like some common incubus desperate for release.

It was positively revolting.

Unthinkable.

A nightmare of the highest degree. He, Andrealphus, a noble of the highest standing, reduced to sneaking through these vile streets because his idiot of a servant failed to fetch you.

As if you had any right to be upset. He was the one who had to endure his dear sister Stella’s constant stupidity. He deserved a bit of stress relief, and you had the audacity to give him the cold shoulder?

Unacceptable.

Andrealphus eye twitched as he stepped inside the butcher shop, his feathers ruffling in barely concealed revulsion.

“You’re ignoring me now?” he said stepping forward, voice smooth but laced with irritation. “All because of a simple fight? Darling, I thought you had more—”

THWACK.

The cleaver came down again—hard—cutting straight through bone with a sickening crunch.

“…class.”

His words faltered, lips curling slightly in displeasure as he glanced down at the ruined chunk of meat. You didn’t even spare him a glance, as if his presence was no more than an afterthought.

Oh, this simply would not do.

Andrealphus scoffed, smoothing a hand down his pristine coat, attempting to compose himself despite the absolute horror of standing in this ghastly little shop.

“You’re upset,” he noted coolly, voice lilting with forced amusement, “It’s adorable, really. But you do realize how insufferable this little tantrum is, don’t you?”