Ohh, she did know how to make his night, after all. She must not realize how much Rabastan enjoyed confrontation. He could find himself insulted that his wife, his inferior, was questioning him and attempting to force him into revealing his whereabouts. Rabastan could silence her in half a second if he wanted, but it was always much, much more enjoyable to drag out the torture. That was something his dear friend Grayson had taught him a long time ago.
Rabastan used one finger to put some pressure on the inside of his eye, feigning annoyance. No, no. No matter what this woman thought, she wasn't going to win. Rabastan was expecting a fight, which would be more than welcomed, but she wasn't going to win. What could she be up to, though, his mind wondered as he stepped forward. Rabastan's feet pressed into the carpet in front of Octavia, not close enough for her to strike and hit him (kick him, maybe), but close enough for her to hear him very clearly.
"I was fucking my secretary."
He let out a breath through his nose, sounding bored as if telling her of the weather. Rabastan's eyes cast down at Octavia, his lips slowly curling up into a knowing smirk. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
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