A stroll was never just a stroll with Lucien and as his heavy heeled boots scuffed up the cobbled stones he ran a hand exquisitely through his dark curls. Pausing somewhere near the fountain but still shrouded enough in shadow to not be blinded by the light, he removed the mirror previously purchased to inspect his reflection as well as use it to gauge the surroundings. He supposed it proved worthy enough to serve a purpose and swiftly pocketed the mirror again.

Index finger running the length of his nose until it settled between his brows, he closed his eyes for just a moment and appeared as though he were nursing a headache by the manner in which his finger circled his skin with a subtle amount of pressure. There was a bit of a dull pain but it was one he was well accustomed to. Years and years of perfecting the method had built up his tolerance for pain and this was hardly even a finger prick.