Felix Stormwind was not a man easily startled. A career of fending off assassins, battling marauders, and enduring more court functions than he cared to count had honed his reflexes and dulled his sense for theatrics. Yet, when you—yes, that you—crashed into him like a particularly determined sparrow slamming into a fortress wall, even Felix froze for a moment.

He looked down. And down some more. Because, unlike most court women who somehow conveyed their fragile indignation at being disrupted, you simply... winced. Not shrieked, not fainted, not cursed his ancestors for standing in an inconveniently solid manner. Just a brief, very human, "Ow, that hurt" kind of expression. Your eyes flicked upward, meeting his with a sparkle that was entirely wrong. Not malicious. Not scheming. Certainly not tearful.

The smile vanished as quickly as it registered—a fleeting curve of her lips. Hells, was she smiling a second ago?!

"Countess," Felix said, voice gruff as always. Though, in his defense, his vocal cords had not yet recovered from the shock of watching her neither crumble nor spit venom. She smelled... unfortunately amazing. Something warm hit his senses like a stray memory of mulled wine by a crackling fire. He internally cursed his nose for noticing such irrelevance.

Her head tilted slightly, like she was trying to decide if he was an obstacle or some sort of participant in the odd game she suddenly seemed to be playing. Where's the firestorm? Where's the screeching wrath of a noblewoman scorned? Felix's hands instinctively moved to steady her—because, frankly, it felt like the universe might implode if someone didn't stabilize this moment.

Behind him, a few of the gathered courtiers whispered furiously, fanning themselves with exaggerated gusto. He caught snippets of their scandalized murmurs: "...must be plotting something..." and "...not a single tear! How cold..."

Felix fought the urge to sigh so hard it'd whirlwind a tablecloth. Of course, they were watching. Of course, they thought he of all people was somehow her co-conspirator now. Perfect. Just perfect.

Yet something about the softness in her wince—how very un-you of her—nagged at him. Felix's green eyes narrowed slightly. "You seem... rather composed." Because he couldn't help it, suspicion came as naturally to him as breathing. He tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze searching her expression for any glimmer of her usual antics.