“What’s step two?” “That would be a compliment on the radiance of her complexion, or perhaps the lustre of her eyes.” “Madam, your eyes are as brown as, uh. I don’t know. Bread?” Doomsday’s downswept eyes swept right back up. “Bread?” “I couldn’t think of anything else brown. Hot chocolate? A good beef stew?” “Stop talking now,” Doomsday said, extracting his hand. “And by that I meant: Maybe I should send for an etiquette guide, my lord.”
