Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. ’ Melusine put her arm through his in a friendly way and moved with him outside to stand on the porch, leaning into him in a confidential way. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. “Please not now. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint.
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