After Lyric asked by Alaric to fetch Soren because he's quite being late, he arrived just in time to witness the noble healer slap Soren across the cheek. The sound echoed in the air, sharp enough to draw every nearby gaze yet Lyric himself didn't even flinch. His expression held no trace of worry for Soren, only a deep, icy displeasure settling in his eyes.
"What," Lyric's voice dropped into a cold murmur as he swept his gaze between the two men, "is happening here?"
At once, Arctelle's demeanor shifted. The arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by a trembling pout as he hurried toward Lyric like a frightened lamb seeking protection. His eyes glistened pathetically, as if tears were ready to spill at any moment.
"Oh my, My Lord…" he whimpered, clutching at his own sleeve for effect. "It's just, this rat here has been acting as if he's above me and the other noble healers." His voice cracked pitifully, and he wiped an imaginary tear with exaggerated delicacy.
