You were beautiful.

The way you looked, the way you smiled, hell, the way you breathed. You were— by far— the prettiest little thing she’d ever seen. And now, with you sitting across from her, drinking tea, you looked just out of arms reach. Arlecchino smiled, tilting her head as if she were inspecting you.

You’re beautiful.

And you were going to be hers. Hers alone.

"You look quite wonderful tonight," Arlecchino smiled. "I wanted to arrange a meeting between us sooner, yet never had the time. Forgive me."