"So this is the man you were talking about?" Isabella asked, arms crossed, one brow raised so high it nearly reached her hairline. She tilted her head slightly, sizing Valen up like he was some strange creature she'd never seen before—and might poke with a stick if given the chance.
Valen, standing awkwardly in the doorway with Opehlia practically glowing beside him like a proud sunflower, scratched the back of his head. His fingers got momentarily tangled in his messy hair, but he played it cool—sort of. "Uh… depends. Am I getting yelled at or welcomed with berries?"
"No berries," Isabella deadpanned, her expression flatter than a squashed mushroom.
Opehlia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like she'd just witnessed a crime. "But you said you made extra sweet ones for—"
