Wicked Wicked
It seemed as though he had only just fallen asleep and already he had caught someone’s interest. That was of course his style; to attract as much attention as possible. From his appearance to his actions he was as loud as he could possibly be and always demanded to leave an impression.
He slipped from his den as fluidly as a snake leaves a hole and peered down at Razi from his place at the top of the stone pathway. “My word !” He exclaimed and began a slow and graceful decent down the stones toward her and stopping just as his considerably smaller frame stood at level with hers.
“So many beautiful women in one place, tell me Cher, how do the men ever cope?” He asked, although the question could have been rhetorical he paused and waited for her to answer. He hadn’t entered the crossroads since arriving in the strange new land but the chronic condition they caused still left a faint, almost undetectable, sour tint on his breath no matter how much spearmint he chewed. This had also meant that The Whispers that usually teased and muttered in his ear were silent. For the time being anyway.
“Dumois Rosario, at your service, Cher.” He said with a deep and grand bow, stretching one arm out and curling the other toward his chest.
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