(Y/N) looked up at Abraham, and Abraham stared back.

"What is a servant doing looking so scrumptious?" (this is the weirdest thing I have EVER typed.)

(Y/N) bit her lip. It was really awkward looking but Abraham thought it was HOT.

(Y/N) stuttered, "M—Maybe it's because I'm covered in cinnamon that the cooks used?" It was true, her dress had a spillage of cinnamon on it earlier that day.

Abraham sniffed the air, "Well, it's a crime for it to go to waste."

Abraham held out a card he retrieved from his jacket pocket. It had the time and place of something...

He smiled, canines showing. It was hot.

"Meet me there this Friday night, and wear your servant attire. I can't have the staff think that something's going on that they don't know about."

(Y/N) took the card and nodded.

Frick. His breath smelled like the casserole they'd served earlier that night. Maybe if (Y/N) opened their mouth, they might be able to taste it...