Taylor stood right next to me. His clean white shirt was also covered in spilled soda. His scowl matched mine, deep and disappointed. But at the sight of him, something odd happened. My fury dissipated. My dragon soul quieted without a peep. I suddenly didn't care about my suit. Which was utterly deranged, because I cared about my suits more than anything. "Typically people apologize when they spill things on others," Taylor remarked dryly. That was the first thing he ever said to me. He was right, of course.
