“Is that a nice way of saying I look like shit?” I expected Cope to panic, get flustered, apologize. Any of those responses. But he just stared at me, one eyebrow slightly cocked. “Do I look like an idiot?” “Not sure you want me to answer that, Hotshot.” “Definitely a warrior. She’s not afraid to level the death blow,” Cope muttered, amusement lacing his tone. “I may miss a lot of things, but one of those will never be how fucking gorgeous you are. Doesn’t matter if you’re covered in grease or flour or have dark circles you’re drowning in. None of it will take away an ounce of your beauty.”
