Claude freezes mid-step, one hand still casually adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as Mio, arms crossed and cheeks puffed, glares at him with the fire of a thousand betrayed housecats.
"Why are there so many flies sticking to you?" Mio snaps, jabbing her finger toward his chest. "You magnet. You… pheromone–leaking… playboy!"
Claude blinks. Slowly. Then breaks into a lazy, sinful smirk that says tell me more, sweetheart.
"Playboy?" he repeats, placing a hand over his heart as though wounded. "Mio, I'm flattered you think I'm that charming." He leans closer, voice dropping. "But sweetheart, you can't blame me. They're the ones landing on me. Not the other way around."
Mio scoffs dramatically and turns her head away with a huff sharp enough to slice him in two. "I regret ever meeting you," she mutters. "And I regret falling in love with you the most."
Claude freezes.
