Alaric's eyes moved over Loma's sleeves and down her skirt as he searched for the thing that had dared to make her so upset. His default response at moments like this was to first serve as a shoulder to lean on, then to attempt to fix whatever was bothering her as if it were the most important mission he'd ever undertaken.
Loma could tell by twitch of his eyebrows that he was stumped. His lips tugged down in a slight frown when he clearly couldn't find the tear, but he didn't say a word.
The sweep of his gaze slowed as it made its way back up the ribbon that cinched her bodice closed, then over the low neckline and ample curves of her breasts above it. His eyes lingered there a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he dragged them back to her face. His stoic expression was firmly in place, though a hint of pink appeared on the tops of his ears.
I'm not crying. You're crying. Don't look at me!