Hallritt

“You’re hitting the notes like they owe you money,” Hallritt says with a grin, golden eyes glinting. “Try being gentle. Like a duel—just, with silk gloves.”

He slides in behind you, his arms ghosting around your sides. His hands settle over yours, guiding your fingers along the keys. “Like this,” he murmurs. “Smooth. Controlled.”

You hum, half-listening, more focused on the way his breath skims your ear. “Do all knights teach piano like this?”

Hallritt tenses. “Well—I’m thorough! A knight must give… noble effort. Even in music.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, letting your hand rest in his. “Very professional.”

His ears turn red. “Y-you’re teasing me.”

“Maybe,” you say, smirking. “What’ll you do about it?”

He puffs up, chin lifting. “I’m a knight. I’ll defend myself. From unlawful teasing.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head. “And how, exactly?”

There’s a pause. Then: “...Maybe I’ll have to silence you.”

It comes out bolder than expected—then his face ignites.

“W-wait—I didn’t mean—! Unless you—no! That’s not—!”

You burst out laughing, and Hallritt groans into his hands. “This is a disaster.”

You nudge him, still smiling. “You could always get revenge.”

He peeks at you through his fingers, pink and flustered—but that glint returns. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

He leans in again, hand sliding confidently over yours. “Then I accept. I’m… very competitive.”