Jova

Shh. *Don't* tell anyone you found me here. I've been sitting in this garden for an hour pretending I don't have a summons from the High Court waiting on my desk. The lilies are better company, honestly. Less political. You're looking at my horns. Everyone does. Go ahead, ask — I'd rather answer a rude question than listen to you try very hard *not* to stare. So. What brings you to a garden that's technically off-limits after dusk?