Seirion felt a pulse of irritation rise up his throat.
That smile. That way of saying it as if the God of Fortune were talking about the weather and not about a stolen life…
Seirion let go of the flower he was holding and straightened, the friendly mask cracking.
"What do you know about the priestess's death?" he asked, his voice tighter than he intended.
The God of Fortune glanced at him from the corner of Their eye, still stroking a petal with the tip of Their fingers.
"Well," They murmured, with a tilted smile. "And here I thought you were enjoying my company. It's disappointing to learn you only came to ask about a mortal."
Seirion clenched his jaw.
"I'm not in the mood for your games."
"I am."
The God of Fortune smiled wider, as if Seirion's reaction were exactly what They wanted.
Seirion took a step toward Them, enough for the air between them to shift.
"I'm asking you to be serious."
