He picked up the end of it and sat it on his lap, running his hand through it
"No no-not at all! Hell it suits you!"
She was sleepy baby.
(Ahem ahem-once upon a time, the prince and the sorcerer had been friends. The best of friends really-a kind prince and his brave knight, fighting side by side-but that was before the sorcerer had found his magic. That was before he had become corrupted and bitter, in the eyes of the kingdom at least. It made sense-the courageous, golden prince and the dark, suave sorcerer-good vs. evil, an eternal struggle. And yet-why couldn't the prince ever capture the sorcerer? And why did the sorcerer always seem to back down just when it would be most convenient for him to strike? ....Maybe it had something to do with the way the two laid awake at night, thoughts of the other dancing through their head. Good and bad are such relative terms after all.......)