I glance over at Sentorr, who's watching me with the corners of his hard mouth turned down slightly. I study him. There's not a hair on his head out of place, his horn coverings immaculately polished. He's even wearing a uniform, which is ironic because the Fool has no uniforms. If we did, though, I imagine they'd look like the stiff, uncomfortable creation he's wearing, with a million buttons on the front and a high collar to choke the life out of a male. And decorative sleeves, I add mentally. Damned Kivian loves a decorated sleeve.
