Beneath the mask, Lorraine could sense something. Leroy's voice was sharp with bitterness, yet softened with love. The jealousy wasn't subtle, though she couldn't fathom why.
"Real weapons are heavy," she said softly, glancing at his sword. "Too heavy for me and beats my purpose. What Damian has is light. Here..." she reached to take the contraption from Damian, her lashes fluttering as she tried not to meet her husband's burning gaze, "...you'll know once you feel it."
But Leroy did not even glance at the device. His eyes were only on her. She could feel it in his eyes… an intensity that pinned her more tightly than any hand.
Her heart skipped. They were only talking about weapons… weren't they? Yet the way he bent to her level, the way his gaze lingered… he wasn't angry. He wasn't cold. He was something else.
And she did not understand. But he looked so adorable.
