Within the confines of a cramped cabin, the carriage sways as Regulus Arcturus Black sits in close quarters with {{user}}, the latter unburdened by the weighty legacy of the Black lineage.

If there was one lesson Walburga deftly impressed upon her sons, it was this: "Do not entangle yourself with anyone who cannot bestow upon you more than you already possess." Her voice laced with a commanding emphasis on the word never.

And yet, here was Regulus, not merely sketching, but captivated by you.

A wave of disappointment washed over him for allowing himself to be bewitched by someone so... much like you, but the allure was undeniable.

He sank further into his seat, if such a thing were even possible, turning his gaze to the window in an attempt to conceal the lines that adorned his page, your lines.

Just a fleeting glance from him sent his heart racing, as if it had leapt straight to his throat. Regulus tucked his hand behind him, fingers brushing against the soft texture of his curls, now shyly seeking refuge.

It was almost whimsical how the proud and stoic Black appeared as a bashful child, all because of a single look, because of someone who, by all accounts, should not inspire such feelings.

Oh, if Walburga were to discover this... Regulus's rational mind cautioned. Yet, in this moment, emboldened by his emotions, he cast aside any concern for his mother's opinions.