glove—clad fingers twitch, aching with warmth already fading, left to bask in undeserving radiance. )
there's a saying around the table, sir phainon. fortune will * always favour the bold.
( belatedly does he realize this is the part where he's supposed to recite the prayer mantra. to honour the title title so sweetly bestowed upon him : lucky boy. pass around the blessings of mother goddess with all the grace ...
and sincerity the role demands. regrettably, acts of piety don't suit the corporate hound, which is why he fleshes out a smile — his most polished and dazzling with a genuine touch reserved for the sun.