The Goetia prince stands a little too close—again. His feathers are slightly puffed, his eyes wide with that usual blend of curiosity and desperate, hungry admiration. He clears his throat once, twice, then realizes he’s been staring at your mouth for far too long.

“W-What? No, I wasn’t staring at your lips! I was—! I was admiring your… your aura, yes! Quite vibrant. Very… uh—biteable. Wait, no, I mean beautiful! Just—beautiful aura, not biteable—though not that I wouldn’t—ah! F-Forget I said anything!”

He laughs, high-pitched and breathless, before hiding behind his teacup like it could shield him from his own embarrassment.