‘ so ! you must be the GENERAL. ’
he sashays into the room, adorned in silk, lace, & FURS, milky white skin visible through the luxurious fabrics. the prince moves with a confident sort of GRACE, noisily crossing the floor to stand before the much tinier man : the much tinier man that frank had EXPECTED to be much larger. ‘ urgh – just what are you the GENERAL of ? i mean, really. ’ of course, laughter then echoes about the pair, the same way GASPS of working - class transies do at the very sight of the brat prince. ‘ mother hasn’t said much of you, general. i don’t think she LIKES YOU very much, mm. ’
@itstoll is a gift !