Trystan had heard enough. “No, knight.” He shoved away from the doorframe. “I’m not paying for a factory. I don’t care how shimmery your hair is.” He flopped down onto the ancient carpet by the bed, again, slanting Galahad a frown. “And how the hell does your hair stay so shimmery, when you are forever without a hat to protect it?”
— Sep 21, 2026 11:41AM
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