“You’re too kind,” placated Fane, but his fingers did stop searching out his cuff, trying to shift its positioning.
“Confidence goes a long way with people in power,” Orlov supplied, motioning for Fane to follow him. Fane instead put himself in a protective spot to the front and side of Orlov. The Punjabi scout watched the enlisted man’s actions. The redhead was unaware of the position he took, but it was not lost on the Prince.
“Why did you bring me with you?” Fane whispered as they walked through the door to the lobby of Crystal.
“Because I feel just as out of place as you do,” he answered nondescriptly.
“You’ve at least been to a high end function like this before,” Fane supplied.
“Meh, my mother and father forced me into this, so yeah, I’ve done this rodeo before. I’d rather be back home running a campaign with my friends,” Orlov told him. Fane surreptitiously glanced at the elegant man. Campaign? War games?
“I guess these kinds of functions are more for those who like to primp and preen,” Fane eyed the fine embroidery on Orlov’s outfit.
“And an inconvenience to those of us who don’t,” mumbled Orlov.
“You look…” Fane trailed off, suddenly nervous. He was at first going to complement Orlov, thinking to reassure him of his outfit. Orlov’s glance settled on his face. Fane ducked, embarrassed. What was he trying to prove, coming here with this man? The pain in his side had subsided at least.
“What?” Orlov smirked.
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