aworldofwhatifs
"Madonna!" the man exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch that set Maddalena's teeth on edge. "You look as beautiful as the night sky tonight. Truly, the stars themselves would weep in envy of your radiance."
Maddalena paused, her gaze shifting slowly from the man's overly manicured eyebrows to the shimmering emerald of her own sleeves. She turned her head slightly, looking toward the ceiling of the ballroom, then back to the lord. "Is the sky green?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of any flirtatious warmth.
The silence that followed was absolute. The lord blinked, his mouth hanging open as he looked from her dress back to her face, his brain seemingly unable to process the lack of a bashful smile. "I-no," he stammered, his confidence evaporating in real-time.
"Then I fear your compliment requires some work, Messer," she replied with a small, devastatingly precise shrug. "Accuracy is the soul of a good observation. Do try again when you've spent some time observing the actual weather."