“Hi there.” Kaison's words are strangely muffled, something white and fluffy pushing under his lips. “Are those. . . marshmallows on your canines?” Disbelief colors my voice. “I've been thinking,” he says around the sugary lumps, “you don't do fangs. So I figured these little buffers might make you more comfortable.” Comfortable. The word hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken promise.
