The memory shifted.
Gawain was sitting on a chair while the small leopard lay across his lap. He brushed its fur gently with a wooden brush, humming some random tune completely off-key.
"Look at you," he said proudly. "Your fur is shinier than my future."
The leopard in his lap blinked slowly.
He continued brushing with the proud expression of someone who believed he had just achieved peak adulthood.
The memories stopped when the man instantly noticed something was wrong, his cheerful expression vanished as he carefully rubbed my head. "M-My Lady?" he asked, worried. "I-Is something wrong?"
Before I could even squeak out a proper nyang, he suddenly set me down on the table when a dagger flew straight through the air as he caught it effortlessly between two fingers.
The blade stopped just an inch from his cheek.
He stared at it then slowly turned his head toward the door.
"Get away from the Lady," Agatha's voice was cold enough to freeze water.
