"Look at you, the once little girl of mine grew to a fine lady that I hold dear."
Lawrence's eyes gleamed rich crimson hue with a little bit of a lopsided smile for everyone to anticipate. Sitting on the throne so comfortably while everyone had lost their will to even nudge in their steads.
Near them, Sylvester stood but had an apprehensive look.
Meanwhile, Jonathan squinted his eyes at her with arms crossed, standing from the far right with the twins.
A crease formed on Nathalie's forehead as she stared at Lawrence, who spoke such words in front of them all.
Even in front of her father, Arnold.
'What is he up to?'
Not even throughout the lifetime of Mystique, as far as Nathalie recalled the memories, ever heard such endearing remarks from him, more so among the crowds.