Lily knew her younger brother's personality all too well. She rose gracefully, a gentle and charming smile on her lips, and strolled unhurriedly toward Roy Thompson. Every move she made, every lift of her brow or curve of her lips was just right—never so much as to seem pretentious, simply natural, as if elegance and nobility were her birthright.
Chloe Keaton called out intentionally at the top of her voice just because she saw Lily coming their way. Lily heard her curses, but not even her brow twitched. She wasn't playing the Saint forgiving a foul mouth—rather, for pests like this, she simply couldn't be bothered.
Besides, for a flea, isn't it easier just to stretch out your foot, press down, and grind a little harder—problem solved?
