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Messy, messy...
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Lance fills his plate, as does Alessa. You step forward, about to serve yourself, but two hands reach for your bowl.
"Allow me."
"I can—"
Lance and Hadrian stop and look at each other. Then, as one, they look at you.
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You reach for Alessa's bowl. "Let me fill it—"
A hand brushes your knuckles. "Allow me—"
You stop and look at Lance, his palm outstretched to you. His grey eyes don't meet yours, however. They're trained on Alessa. Slowly, you turn your chin and see Alessa's lips are parted in a small 'O'...