This one had blonde furred paws, a rare find among the kind. The accountant silently clicked numbers into the machines, her eyes never leaving the little screen, until Malakai adressed her.
“You, Shawna,” he purred, “C’mere.” Reluctant to speak to the oaf, she stood and strode over to him.
“Y-you asked for me, sir?” she asked in a practiced timid voice, her soft features put into a frightened expression, all of this fake. He smiled. Oh, that infuriating smile! How she hated the ‘I’ve got something planned’ smile, and he saved it for her, since they were twelve.
He liked her, he may even have loved her, but she’d been hooked up for marriage since she was five. She was to get married next Hardegon(the equivalent of your Saturday), but he still wanted her like a plant wants sunlight.