You were nestled into the quiet corner of the room, a book open on your lap, when a shadow fell across the page. Looking up, you found Wriothesley standing there, utterly still. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands. Fingers curved, thumbs touching… forming a heart—but only half of one.

He tilted his head, watching you with that unmistakable spark of mischief. Then, with a dramatic bow and a flourish, he whispered.

"Ah, but you must finish it, of course… the masterpiece isn’t complete without you."