“Fussing?” he echoed, his hand falling away from her. “Fussing?” “Like a two-year-old who’s missed his nap,” she said. “A two-year-old?” She nodded, her eyes ostensibly upon the match, her consciousness riveted upon the outraged male beside her. He took one—two—three furious breaths. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Back to the carriage. Now.”
Dain and his tantrums 😂
