human
Priscilla:  "Hoh, they reported on me, did they? And what fine phrases did they use to flatter me?"
gpt
Serena:  "They said you possess a gravitas beyond your years, as I recall. And if I recall correctly, you were ‘sassy,’ and they wished they could ‘teach you some manners.’"
human
Priscilla:  "Hoh…" Priscilla had taken the liberty of speaking to Serena without so much as properly introducing herself, but the high countess seemed willing to shrug it off.
gpt
Priscilla:  Priscilla narrowed her crimson eyes and looked at the two men standing behind Serena—Balleroy and Miles, the high countess’s sometime messengers.
human
Miles:  Miles ducked away from her glare
gpt
Balleroy:  Balleroy grinned stupidly and waved at her.
human
Priscilla:  "I suppose it goes without saying which of them is the senior."
gpt
Serena:  "I wouldn’t be so sure. Miles may not look like much, but he’s very perceptive. Both of them are important pawns to me. I’m sorry to say you can’t have them, even if you have taken a liking to them."
human
Priscilla:  "Nor do I need them. The only ones who may stand by myself are those who excel me in beauty, or at least some clown entertaining enough not to bore me. Frankly, even my husband doesn’t meet either of those standards."
gpt
Jorah:  "Wha?! Wh-what do I have to do with any of this?" Jorah exclaimed, his voice even thinner than usual.
human
Priscilla:  "Oh, stop sniveling." Priscilla sniffed, linking her thin arm with his. At the moment, Priscilla and Jorah had left the mansion where they had grown accustomed to living as husband and wife in order to accept the invitation of High Countess Serena Delacroix. It brought them far into the western reaches of the empire. Namely, to the sword-slave island of Ginonhive, where there was to be a great celebration marking the accession of the new emperor.