Oh, but you'll want to be a part of this one. [ His lips curl with self-satisfaction, and never more has he been the image of a cat in cream. A swift step, and suddenly, Lucius stands at Eridanus' front again—and this time, he doesn't bother to keep his hands to himself, fingers coming up to tug at the knot of Eridanus' tie for no reason but to toy with the man in front of him. ] When we first spoke of crossing blades, you sighed so wistfully over the thought of the moment preserved in paint. Now, the hour draws near. Shouldn't we find an artist worthy of the task before it's upon us?