The sun hadn't even bothered to rise yet. It was that distinct, hateful shade of grey that existed specifically to mock people who were awake before six in the morning.
Reed stood near the mouth of the dungeon cave, holding a mug of coffee that was rapidly losing its heat to the biting wind of the mountain peak. He wore his heavy black velvet coat, the collar turned up against the chill, but the cold seemed to seep through the fabric anyway. It was a reminder that while he was a Level 5 Dungeon Lord capable of warping reality and raising the dead, he was still, at his core, a guy from Ohio who really didn't like freezing his ass off.
"You are squinting," a voice purred from his left. "It causes wrinkles, my Lord. You should moisturize."
Reed turned his head slowly. Beside him, defying all laws of thermodynamics and modesty, was Seraphine.
She looked... expensive.
