Lindsey stared.
Mr Warren, appearing scarcely older than Lindsey himself, stood a good head shorter. His heart-shaped face held a small, sharp nose, Cupid’s-bow lips, and a spellbinding pair of large, dark, half-lidded eyes. He wore a black wool suit, which offset the china white of his skin as much as it matched the ebony gleam of his hair, combed back to reveal a high, intelligent forehead.
“Sir,” said Mr Warren in a tone as mechanical as their surroundings. He gave Lindsey a clockwork-sharp nod.
Lindsey hardly heard him, though his hind-brain noted the gesture and may have responded in kind. Alternatively, he might have continued staring at Mr Warren with parted lips and furrowed brow. He couldn’t say for certain.