“You have to admit, these suit me,” he called, and I turned sharply, finding him inspecting himself in a dusty gilded mirror, a crown upon his head which had to be at least six hundred years old, an emerald broach pinned to his chest, a solid gold spear clutched in his fist, and a ceremonial shield strapped to his arm. “Yeah, I think I’ve found my new look.” “Give me those,” I demanded, tripping over a box of jewels in my haste to claim the items from him and damn near falling on my face.
This is too funny
