In this vintage-style study filled with the scent of books, Jareth lounged easily in a leather armchair.
Eyes half-lidded, he held a book in one hand, his long legs stretched out and crossed casually atop the desk. Everything about him screamed one word-relaxed.
At the sound of the opening door, he lazily lifted his eyes. Those ink-black irises briefly flicked over to Celestia, who stood frozen at the entrance, her face drained of color from the shock.
His thin lips twitched upward into a smirk, something wicked dancing across his striking features.
"I was just wondering how long you'd take to get back. You're early today," he drawled. She hadn't quit her job yet. Guess Dexter didn't go along with his plan.
At the thought, Jareth closed his book slowly and crossed his arms
