“Don’t talk to me like one of your lackeys,” he warns, shaking his head, white hair feathering across his forehead. His eyeliner is thick and dark tonight, almost ghoulish. He truly looks like something that, while pretty, is also possibly undead. “You can call me your fuckboy if you want—I’ll even be one for you. But I sure as shit am not going to be bossed around.”
