Cylvan attempted to apologize, but in the process of righting himself, accidentally hooked a nail under the edge of Saffron’s nightshirt, sloppily pushing it up to reveal his bare stomach. It made Saffron squeak in embarrassment, trying to shove it back into place, only to accidentally knock Cylvan’s hand away and summon him crashing down again. “Oh, gods, I swear—I’m not trying anything,” Cylvan groaned in frustration, fighting one more time to find his balance. “Fuck—beantighe moonshine doesn’t fuck around. Is this how you feel eating fairy fruits? I swear my bones are—boiled eggs.”
