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buckets-and-trees · 14 hours ago

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I love getting to weave little detailed connections in a standard AU, and Cinderella folklore is one of my favorites, so I'm certainly charting out as many ways as I can to really make it sing with Cinderella elements!!! The step-sister and step-monster dynamic is absolutely gonna be there!

And from the physical to the dialogue style to what they talked about... I really wanted it to bleed Lloyd. Not the Lloyd we're used to, maybe, but a Lloyd that we still recognize as Lloyd - including a BORING! that I felt like worked when I dropped it and wasn't just included because it's a thing he said in TGM. Ugh! You know I try to be meticulous without it getting laborious.

And yeah. Had to leave you with a killer kiss. 😏 It's the kind of kiss that when they do find out who the other one is, they'll be annoyed that kiss is forever seared into their brain as a canon event. 🤭

Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story

Chapter One Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 5k Summary: After paying your dues and working hard for a few years, you're finally invited to be part of the delegation Nexus PR is sending to the industries banner international conference. It's the opportunity you've been waiting for to fuel the next steps in your career. Over the coming days, you're eager to take every chance and make every connection you can and not waste a single moment. And it all starts with a pre-conference masquerade...

Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities (later enemies to lovers), mention of the past death of a parental figure in passing

Notes: Final week of my Countdown to Chris-mas! This is an idea I had a really really really really really really long time ago, but it's just sort of been waiting in the wings and biding its time with my muse. My intention was for this to be a longer fic between 8-10k, but ... when I got to the end of the first night, it was 5k, so ANOTHER CHAPTERED FIC, HERE WE GO! I know nobody asked for yet another WIP from me, but alas. It is what it is.

A/N 2: Credit to @stargazingfangirl18 for title inspiration!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

This wasn’t only your first international conference, it was your first professional conference, period.

For it to be held in Paris was already a dream.

To be on your way to a masquerade at the chateaux of Versailles as a prelude to the conference was nothing short of magical.

Even if it was being sponsored by Hansen Global Digital Industries.

The company was a titan in the industry, both in size and in reputation. While they weren’t your direct competitors - the small firm you worked for was nowhere near the size - they were one of the top and used for benchmarking across the board by many. The Global, Digital, and International in their title basically meant they did everything.

While the masquerade was billed as a social, everyone knew it was also a thinly veiled and prime opportunity for networking that could lead to potential poaching. But since invitations for attendance were extended to everyone registered for the conference, it was more than just Hansen Global who planned to scope out prospects and sharpen their teeth among the masses tonight.

As the taxi wound its way through the streets of Paris and then out of the city, you nervously adjusted your mask. It was an elegant creation of black lace and gold filigree, a last-minute purchase from a boutique near your hotel. You hoped it would be enough to fit in with the crowd of industry elites. You'd spent more than you had wanted on the costume, but reasoned it was an investment. First impressions counted, especially in a crowd like this.

The taxi ahead of you turned a corner, and you caught a glimpse of Gus's laughing face through the window. Your stomach twisted with a pang of envy. In the chaos of trying to get everyone from your firm’s delegation into taxis at the same time, you’d been split from your work best friend Gus and instead landed in the last taxi with the last two people you wanted. Gus, with his easy charm and quick wit, would have made the perfect companion for the nerve-wracking journey to Versailles. Instead, you were wedged in the backseat between Anya and Holly, their silence as thick and suffocating as the heavy perfume they both wore.

Anya stared out the window, her crimson lips pursed in a permanent expression of boredom. Her mask, a stunning creation of peacock feathers and Swarovski crystals, probably cost more than your entire wardrobe - not just what you had on tonight, your entire wardrobe back home. Holly, on your other side, tapped away furiously on her phone, no doubt already networking before you'd even arrived.

The three of you worked together on the same team, and they treated you as an unwanted little step-sister, leaving you to catch most of the work for the projects as the rookie, so you could learn.

And learn, you did. As much as you knew and hated that you were given nearly everything while they did nearly nothing and blatantly shared and stole credit, you didn’t complain. You were no stranger to grinding and working for every scrap and opportunity that you could take. But you also didn’t complain because there was no one to complain to. Your team lead thought Anya and Holly could do no wrong and made it clear she felt put upon that you’d been shifted to her team when the team you had originally been hired to had been dissolved when your lead had been promoted within the company.

You could also put up with Anya and Holly as necessary on this trip because - by some blessed twist of fate - said leader of your team Amilla Tremaine had been unable to attend the conference this year. It was going to be a week without her needling, scrutiny, and constant disapproval.

The closer you got to Versailles, the more your stomach churned with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You had practiced your elevator pitch countless times in the mirror, rehearsing the finer points of your latest project. But would anyone even care to listen to a newcomer from a small firm?

The taxi pulled up to the grand gates, and you all stepped out into the cool evening air. The château loomed before you, its windows aglow with warm light. Without a word, Holly and Anya immediately linked arms and caught up with some of the others while leaving you behind. A steady stream of masked figures made their way up the steps, their laughter and chatter carried on the breeze.

Then Gus was suddenly next to you, bumping your shoulder with his.

"Ready to make some magic happen?" He grinned, his eyes twinkling behind a mask adorned with silver swirls.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling some of your tension ease. "As ready as I'll ever be. Though I think I might need a bit of liquid courage first."

"That can be arranged," Gus chuckled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Together, you ascended the grand staircase, your heart pounding with each step. The opulence of Versailles was overwhelming, even more breathtaking in person than in any photograph or film. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sea of masked faces, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures swirling around you.

As you entered the main ballroom, a waiter appeared as if by magic, offering flutes of champagne. You gratefully accepted one, taking a sip to calm your nerves. The champagne was exquisite, far better than anything you'd ever tasted before. You savored the moment, trying to commit every detail to memory.

"So, what's our game plan?" Gus asked, scanning the room. "Should we divide and conquer, or stick together?"

Before you could answer, a tall figure in an elaborate Venetian mask approached. "Excuse me," he said, his accent unmistakably French. "I couldn't help but overhear. Are you two looking to make some connections tonight?"

You and Gus exchanged a quick glance. "We are," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "We're here representing Nexus PR."

The man's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, Nexus! I've heard good things about your work in emerging markets. I'm Claude Dumont, head of international relations at Hansen Global."

Your heart skipped a beat. Hansen Global? Already? You forced yourself to maintain composure as you shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Dumont.” You introduced yourself and Gus to tis industry titan.

"Enchanté," Claude smiled, his eyes crinkling behind his mask. "I must say, I'm particularly intrigued by your recent campaign in Southeast Asia. The cultural nuances were masterfully handled."

You blinked in surprise. He knew about that? It had been a small project, but one you'd poured your heart into. "Thank you, that means a lot coming from you, sir.”

Claude was known for his keen eye for talent and innovative partnerships. This was exactly the kind of opportunity you'd hoped for, but never expected to actually happen.

“I keep a sharp eye out for just that kind of execution in our industry, especially when it’s happening outside of our company,” he says with a wink. “Now you really must let me steal you two away to my modest corner of this gathering,” he insists.

You and Gus exchanged another quick glance, this time of barely contained excitement. This was an opportunity you couldn't pass up.

"We'd be honored, Monsieur Dumont," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Claude gestured for you to follow him through the glittering crowd. As you weaved your way across the ballroom, you couldn't help but notice Anya and Holly watching from a corner, their eyes narrowing behind their ornate masks. You felt a small surge of satisfaction, quickly followed by a pang of guilt for feeling that way.

Claude's "modest corner" turned out to be a secluded alcove with plush velvet chairs and a stunning view of the gardens. A small group was already gathered there, their masks glinting in the soft lamplight. You recognized a few faces from industry magazines and conferences – these were some of the biggest names in global PR and marketing.

Claude introduced you to a couple of the figures closest to you, and then began to mingle elsewhere, drawn in by others.

After a few minutes, Gus leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't look now, but I think you've caught someone else's attention."

Despite his warning, you couldn't help but glance in the direction he subtly indicated. A tall figure in a striking black and gold mask was observing you from across the room. Even from this distance, you could feel the intensity of their gaze.

"Any idea who that might be?" you whispered to Gus.

He shook his head. "Can't tell, but whoever it is, it looks like they're interested in you."

Your pulse quickened, and you took another sip of champagne. “No need to worry about him when we’re here though,” you replied softly, and then the two of you re-engaged with the people you’re surrounded with.

You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but found your attention continually drawn back to the mysterious figure in black and gold. Their gaze never wavered, and you felt a mixture of intrigue and unease under their scrutiny.

As the night wore on, you found yourself growing more comfortable in this elite circle of what turned out to be a mix of new and seasoned professionals. The initial nervousness had faded, replaced by a heady mix of excitement and confidence. You were holding your own in conversations about global market trends and innovative campaign strategies, even offering insights that were met with nods of approval.

Gus, true to form, was charming everyone within earshot. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him work the room, his easy laugh and quick wit drawing people in like moths to a flame.

After about an hour, you excused yourself to find a bathroom, and on your way back, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turned to find yourself face-to-face with the enigmatic observer. Though he wore a mask covering his full face, his eyes were still visible through the mask's openings, a mesmerizing shade of ice blue that drew you in.

He stood tall and imposing, his presence commanding even in the opulent surroundings of Versailles. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, the fabric so fine it seemed to absorb the light around it. A single red rose was pinned to his lapel, a vibrant splash of color against the monochrome ensemble.

When he spoke, his voice was a rich baritone that sent a shiver down your spine. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room, and I must insist that you dance with me."

You kept a polite smile on your face, but your eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that so?”

"Forgive me, that came out more presumptuous than it should have. Allow me to rephrase - may I have the honor of a dance?"

Something told you he didn’t care one bit about politeness or if you forgave him or not.

You hesitated, torn between curiosity about this mysterious, cavalier figure and the comfortable circle you’d already broken into for the evening. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm actually in the middle of some important conversations..."

"But isn't this entire evening about making new connections?" he countered smoothly. "You won't regret it."

There was something in his voice, a hint of challenge perhaps, that made you reconsider. Plus, you had to admit, you were intrigued.

"Alright," you conceded, "one dance."

He offered his arm, and you took it, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. As if on cue, the orchestra began to play a slow waltz.

As you began to glide across the dance floor together, you couldn't help but feel a mix of exhilaration and unease. The mysterious man's lead was strong and confident, guiding you effortlessly through the steps of the waltz. His hand on your waist felt both thrilling and dangerous, like touching a live wire.

The man towered over you, his tall frame exuding a commanding presence. His broad shoulders were wrapped in thick muscles that you could feel plainly beneath your hand as it rested on his shoulder. With each turn on the dance floor, you could feel his undeniable strength and power, and it ignited a fire began to smolder within you. He was a force to be reckoned with, and you were unquestionably caught in his alluring grasp.

After a minute of dancing without any conversation, you needed to break the silence, your curiosity too strong and needing to know more about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” you started, in hopes of getting to learn his.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the p on the end.

You turned your face up to look at him. “Because you already know who I am?” you pressed.

“Nope,” he said again, but with a more pronounced p and a tone of amusement in his voice.

“Then why don’t you want to know who I am?”

“It defeats the point of having a masquerade,” he answered. “Tonight should be an escape from the burden of our names and titles and expectations.” His voice expressed a deeper annoyance as he continued - not at you, but seemingly at the situation. “The conference will be consumed by nothing but that for the rest of the week. Can we not have just this one night of anonymous freedom?”

There was an exhaustion that bled through his words as well. It made you more curious to know who this man was to feel so jaded and desperate to escape his life for one night, but it also made you reel back that curiosity to a point. His words struck a chord you could relate to.

"I suppose there's some truth to that," you admitted.

The pressure not only of the conference, but of your fledgling career, of constantly having to prove yourself, had been weighing heavily on your mind. Had been a relentless driving force for years, especially since your mother died. The idea of a night free from expectations was alluring.

"But how can we make connections if we don't know who we're connecting with?"

"Sometimes the most meaningful connections are formed when we're free from the constraints of our usual identities. Don't you find it liberating?"

As you twirled across the dance floor, you had to admit there would be something freeing about the anonymity. Without the pressure of your name or position, you felt you could be bolder, more daring.

"Fine, I'll play along," you decided, a mischievous glint in your eye. "But only if at some points you’ll answer at least some of my questions."

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Only if I want to. You up for the challenge?”

You wanted to know what company he worked for, maybe even what part of the industry, but you knew he wouldn’t answer questions like that.

“Where did you go to school?” you asked.

“Boring!”

“Can I at least know where you’re from?”

“Nope, too specific.”

You huff.

“Come on, ask me something interesting,” he goads.

You pondered for a moment, trying to think of a question that might intrigue him enough to answer. "Alright, what's your biggest regret?"

He raised an eyebrow behind his mask, clearly not expecting such a personal question. "Ah, now that's more like it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "My biggest regret... is not taking more risks when I was younger."

You felt a small thrill at having gotten him to answer. "What kind of risks?"

He spun you out and then pulled you back in, closer than before. "The kind that make your heart race and your palms sweat. The kind that could change everything."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. "And now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Now?" He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Now I make it a point to take as many calculated risks as I can.”

His words sent a thrill through you, adding more heat to the fire he’d already sparked. You were acutely aware of how close he was, the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms as he guided you across the dance floor.

"And what about you?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. "What's your biggest regret?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. It felt too personal, too raw to share with a stranger. But then again, of course he would ask something demanding of a deeper answer. Wasn't that the point of this masked encounter now? Deeper connection but with the anonymity and constraints of only one night.

"I regret not standing up for myself more," you admitted softly. "Always trying to please others, even at my own expense."

He nodded, as if he understood all too well. "And now?" he echoed your earlier follow up.

You took a deep breath, considering your answer. "Now... I'm learning to find my voice. To take up space. To demand what I deserve."

His grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly. "Good," he murmured, his approval sending a shiver down your spine. "The world has no use for those who shrink themselves."

You were both quiet for a beat then, but it wasn’t awkward.

"The necklace you're wearing," he said after another moment, his eyes dropping to your collarbone. "It's quite striking."

You felt a flush creep up your neck, suddenly self-conscious. The small round diamond on its simple chain seemed woefully inadequate in the opulence of Versailles, among the glittering jewels adorning the necks of some of the other attendees. You'd debated whether to wear it tonight, knowing it might look out of place at such a grand affair. “You don’t have to say that, it’s not much, especially for an event like this.”

He shook his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. "No, it's perfect precisely because it's not ostentatious. It speaks of history, of sentiment. I'd wager it means far more to you than any gaudy bauble could."

You were taken aback by his perception. “It’s… yes. It belonged to my gram who passed it on to my mom, and then to me. Gram said it would always bring good luck.”

His eyes softened behind the mask. "And has it? Brought you good luck?"

"I'd say it has," you replied with a small smile. “More good than bad, at least.” You built everything in your life on hard work, but your mother had always reminded you that hard work would sometimes be rewarded with the blessing of luck.

"Then it's doing its job," he said, his voice warm. "And it suits you."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, touched by his insight and unexpected kindness.

As you continued to dance, the conversation flowed more freely. You discussed favorite books, debated the merits of various cuisines, and shared anecdotes from growing up. All the while, you were acutely aware of his presence, the strength in his arms, the intensity of his gaze behind that striking mask.

You didn’t realize you had danced so long until the orchestra paused to take a break. The absence of music brought you back to reality, and you moved away from the man who was only a partial stranger now. He’d released his hold from your waist, but he kept hold of your hand.

“Let’s go walk in the gardens,” he said.

You hesitated, glancing back towards the alcove where you'd left Gus and your newfound industry connections. "I should probably get back..."

"Aw, come on," he challenged, his voice low and persuasive. "The gardens of Versailles are breathtaking at night. It would be a shame to miss them."

You bit your lip, torn between duty and desire. The responsible part of you knew you should return to networking, to making the most of this rare opportunity. But another part of you, a part that had been dormant for far too long, yearned for adventure.

"Alright," you conceded, "but only for a little while."

Wasting no time, he led you towards the grand doors that opened onto the gardens. As you stepped outside, the cool night air caressed your skin, a welcome respite from the warmth of the ballroom. The gardens of Versailles stretched out before you, a labyrinth of manicured hedges and marble statues bathed in moonlight.

As you walked, your companion kept hold of your hand, his touch sending sparks through your body. The two of you dove easily back into conversation once more - the unconventional step away from the standard getting-to-know-yous and venturing through more things that mattered but that you rarely talked about with anyone.

"What do you think is the key to success?" you asked, curious about his perspective.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that reverberated through you. "Adaptability," he answered without hesitation. "The ability to change course quickly, to see opportunities where others see obstacles. And a bit of ruthlessness doesn't hurt either."

You raised an eyebrow. "Ruthlessness? That’s intense."

He shrugged, his shoulders moving elegantly under his tailored jacket. "The business world isn't for the faint of heart. Sometimes you have to make tough decisions, put your own interests first."

His words made you pause. They reminded you of the cutthroat atmosphere at your own firm, the way Anya and Holly seemed to thrive on competition and backstabbing. You'd always tried to rise above it, to succeed on your own merits without stepping on others. But sometimes you wondered if that approach was naive.

"And what about integrity?" you challenged. "Doesn't that count for something?"

He turned to face you, his eyes glinting behind his mask. "Integrity is admirable, but it won't always get you where you want to go. Sometimes you have to play the game to change it."

You frowned, not entirely convinced. "But at what cost? Doesn't it hollow out your success if you compromise your values to achieve it?"

He leaned in closer, his voice low and intense. "The world isn't black and white, my dear. Sometimes the ends justify the means. And sometimes, those who play by the rules get left behind."

His words sent a chill down your spine.

There was a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there before, a glimpse of something darker beneath the charm and mystery.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There's always a way to succeed without sacrificing your principles. It might be harder, it might take longer, but it's possible."

He studied you for a long moment, his head tilted slightly. "You're idealistic," he said finally. "It's... refreshing. But I wonder how long you can hold onto that idealism in this industry."

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze squarely. “I can’t abandon it. Ever.”

Even though you could not agree with him, there was something intoxicating about his confidence, his unapologetic pursuit of success.

You expected him to scoff or look at you as if you were perhaps a little less. But he only nodded, a pensive look remaining in his eyes, and then began to walk again, pulling you along to fall in step beside him.

"And what is it that you want?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the direction of his question. It was simple, but exposed you in a new way.

The question hung in the air between you, loaded with possibility. The intensity of the moment made your heart race.

"What I want..." you began, your voice softer than you intended. "I want to make a difference. To create campaigns that actually mean something, that have a positive impact on the world, not just make money for businesses."

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Admirable," he said, his tone unreadable. "And what do you want for yourself?"

What did you want for yourself? You'd been so focused on proving yourself, on climbing the ladder, on trying to make your father proud after all his own sacrifices to help put you through school, that you'd barely stopped to consider your own desires.

"I want to be recognized for my work. To be valued. To not have to fight for every scrap of credit or opportunity."

"Ah," he murmured, his voice tinged with understanding. His grip on your hand tightened slightly. "You're tired of being overlooked, of others taking credit for your hard work." His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand. "I can relate to that feeling all too well."

You looked up at him, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in his voice. "You? But you seem so confident, so in control."

He chuckled, but there was a bitter edge to it. "Appearances can be deceiving, especially in our world. I've had my fair share of battles to get where I am."

As you walked deeper into the gardens, the sounds of the party faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant trickle of fountains.

"And is that all you want?" he pressed, his voice low and smooth. "There’s gotta be something more that you want."

He stopped walking to turn to look at you. You felt a blush creep up your neck, grateful for the mask that hid part of your face. There was something in his tone, in the intensity of his gaze, that made you think he wasn't just talking about professional aspirations anymore.

"I want to feel alive," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "To experience passion and adventure. To take risks without fear of failure."

He stepped closer, closing the already small distance between you. "And what's stopping you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "I don't know," you said honestly.

His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "Maybe…”

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your dress, and you gave a slight jump, breaking away from this man and the too-intense moment.

“Sorry,” you said.

“It’s fine,” he replied.

Your hand shot into the folds of your dress, and you pulled out the phone. It was a message from Gus, asking where you’d disappeared to. Your eyes flicked to the top corner, gasping when you saw what time it was - 11:47pm. You shot off a quick reply go Gus, even as your eyes flitted back up to the stranger. “I completely lost track of time! I have to get back before my group leaves without me.”

"No, of course," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I suppose our little escape couldn't last forever."

You hesitated, torn between the desire to stay and the practical need to leave. "I should go," you said reluctantly.

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll walk you back.”

Though he didn’t reach for your hand again, the walk back up to the castle was companionable enough, even if the conversation did taper off significantly. You imagined he must be feeling the spell of tonight’s escape dissipating as much as you.

It didn’t take long to walk back to the castle, but he stopped again once you were close and tugged you to face him.

“You could stay,” he said, “get a ride back with me.”

Your heart stuttered.

You wanted to.

But you couldn’t.

You didn’t want to say no though.

So instead, you said, “I don’t know. I can’t imagine disclosing something as pedestrian as which hotel I’m staying at,” calling back to the stubborn beginning of your true conversation, and by the time you’d finished, your face had split into an impish grin.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling behind his mask. "Let me guess - the headquarter hotel for the conference, right?"

You nodded, pretending to be impressed by his deduction. "You got me. But that's all you're prying out of me, mystery man."

He laughed again, the warm sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I suppose I must concede defeat this time. But before you go..." He paused, his eyes searching yours behind his mask. "Will you do one thing for me?"

You hesitated, curiosity warring with caution. "What?"

"Close your eyes," he said softly. "Just for a moment."

You hesitated for a moment, torn between caution and curiosity. But something in his voice, in the way he'd looked at you all night, made you trust him. Slowly, you let your eyelids flutter shut.

You heard a rustle of fabric, then felt his warm breath on your face. One of his large hands, strong yet gentle, cupped your cheek. The scent of his cologne enveloped you – notes of sandalwood and something spicy you couldn't quite place.

Then his lips were on yours, insistent, hungry. The kiss was electric, sending sparks coursing through your body. His mouth moved against yours with a passion that left you breathless, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck to pull you closer. You melted into him, your hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as if to anchor yourself in this moment.

The world around you faded away - the sounds of the party, the cool night air, the scent of roses in the garden - all of it disappeared, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, his strong arms around you. You felt dizzy, intoxicated by his touch, by the passion that radiated between you.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until you parted them with a soft gasp. He tasted of champagne and something darker, more intoxicating. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, the solid planes of his chest pressed against you. A small moan escaped your throat, swallowed by his eager mouth.

Just as you felt yourself getting lost in the kiss, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and dazed.

“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he murmured against your lips, then turned and swept away before your eyes fluttered open, only allowing you to see the back of him as he disappeared.

Though he had removed his mask to kiss you, you had never seen even a hint of his face, only his fierce blue eyes.