Karla and Warren's Suite, The Estate in Glacia, Tuesday Night Fandom Time

[not_a_parakeet]

Well. Warren hadn't had a good back-and-forth frustrated prowl around a room in months. Of course, Warren usually didn't let himself get to the point of pacing and grumbling to himself. It was bad form. Hell, it was rude, which was why Warren had excused himself from the function tonight that saw one of the less gilt rooms in the estate full of

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[glacial_queen]

It likely wouldn't do much for Warren's state of mind to realize that Karla hadn't noticed he'd gone until after the dance had ended and Prince Dietrich had handed her off to the next male on her dance card

[not_a_parakeet]

Oh, that was not doing anything for Warren's current frustrations. He had stopped pacing when Karla came into the room, just standing and quietly watching her get herself settled. But now, after that last statement?

He took in a deep breath and flexed his hands a few times, willing himself to relax.

"Not Prince Dietrich? He seemed to be the first dance you had all night that didn't make you look like you were chewing on glass while you kept his company."

[glacial_queen]

"The very same," Karla said, now too focused on pulling the seven million pins out of her hair to notice any danger signals. "He's funny, Warren. I like him."

[not_a_parakeet]

Oh, hey. Warren was pacing again.

"Yeah, you two seemed to really be hitting it off before I left," he noted, just a touch too casually. "He said something funny?"

Nosy, Warren.