Cyrus stared at Isabella with those, confused pink eyes, his voice as soft as a feather. "Do you want me to put on a skirt?"
For a brief, horrifying second, Isabella almost felt like he was the victim here.
She peeked down at Glimora, who was still sneaking curious glances like a little pervert.
With a dramatic gasp, Isabella immediately covered the small animal's eyes. "Glimora! You innocent child! Do not gaze upon the forbidden sights!"
Then, she let out the loudest, most theatrical scoff of disbelief. "Oh, no, I love your naked body so much," she drawled, thick with sarcasm.
And—that was her next mistake.
Because the moment those words left her mouth, Cyrus went red.
Not just a little red. Deep red. His entire face, from his sharp cheekbones to the tips of his ears, flushed like he had just been struck by lightning.
Oh no.
He stood there, stark naked, glowing pink, and visibly flustered.
No one had ever told him that before.
