[Prettier. That's an observation surprising enough to jar Raven out of her pretense for a moment, even though she doesn't drop the shape. 'Charles' looks at the elf royalty for a moment, remembering after a moment to blink.

The next moment, his smile is wide and white and lovely and boyish; not a smile that Charles shares very often.] Really, [he says. The background shifts; he is sitting himself down, looking fractionally more sober.] I can't even imagine what I'd tell anybody about Raven, lately. She seems to spend an egregious amount of time kicking people in the head, and that is not my cup of tea at all.