[Edgar made every effort he could to avoid seeing, and being seen by, the princess. Mostly to save face. The blunder he'd made, as harmless as it was in the end, still stuck with him. Apparently, his ego could handle rejection from women left and right, but being unable to recognize what he treasured most (besides his own brother and Figaro itself, naturally) was nigh unbearable. It was laughably ironic how the princess he'd wanted to see and court so much at first became the one he dreaded the most.
Dread wasn't an accurate description, no. Seeing her in those fancy threads and so beautifully done stirred something in him that was far from anything resembling dread.
Hearing her brogue, though, reminded him too well of his own personal failure. She confused everything about him. He wasn't sure what to think of it.
Coughing just once into his fist, he stopped looking at her through the corner of his eye and focused back on the Tycoon horizon.]
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Dread wasn't an accurate description, no. Seeing her in those fancy threads and so beautifully done stirred something in him that was far from anything resembling dread.
Hearing her brogue, though, reminded him too well of his own personal failure. She confused everything about him. He wasn't sure what to think of it.
Coughing just once into his fist, he stopped looking at her through the corner of his eye and focused back on the Tycoon horizon.]
The weather here has made me homesick, is all.
[A pause.]
...enjoying the party, your Highness?