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Summary
“Y—You…” Her fists clenched, and her blue eyes flooded with anger. “You lied to me!”
“Oh, Miss Furina, did I not clarify it well enough earlier?” Furina knocked into the table behind her, several cups and trays clattering from the force. “I wasn't the one to do it; let's agree to that, hm?” Arlecchino’s right claw reached up, stealing the well-adorned hat atop the archon’s head as she cupped her face.
“Unhand me this instant!” The god sputtered out, her flimsy hands gripping the curved edge of the table. “Or I—I'll call for Monsieur Neuvillette! There's no doubt he's still nearby; he'll come to my call immediately!”
“Hm, such bark, yet no bite to follow... Go on, then, call for your Chief Justice, and I'll leave.” Arlecchino still kept her grip around the archon’s face, waiting for her to deliver the final verdict. “Call for him, and we can pretend that this occurrence never happened; or do you wish to dance with me a while longer?”