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Frances and Marianne turned to the source of the voice, looking irritated. Leonard did the same, his face impassive.
A striking man with bronzed skin and scarlet hair approached them, not heeding their stares. His demeanor was almost rude.
“Hey, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, so you should smile for me. Come on, you’re embarrassing me!” he said.
“You have no shame to begin with, so I advise against such drivel,” Marianne replied. She stepped forward to block Frances from his line of sight as if to say that the likes of him had no right to speak to her.
The red-haired man put on a threatening face, enraged by her comment. “I’m trying to speak with the master, so why’s the dog getting in the way? What, are you so crazy you don’t know when you’re supposed to get out of the way?”
In the past, some had called her Mad Dog Marianne.
“Hm?”
A bloodthirsty smile spread across Marianne’s face. She typically held back when she was with Frances, but she had never lost to anyone in a verbal contest. Marianne placed a hand on the hilt of her sword.
She taunted, “Well, if you can understand the words of a dog, I suppose that means you’re one...
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