He adjusts her weight briefly, tugging her up his chest as they wind through the courtyard, back towards his room. He won't be able to stay long, no doubt had to report down to where he pissed where he had been to satisfy their commanders. At least the lack of trust was mutual.
They surely have different definitions for noteworthy, right? He probably wouldn't want to hear about how she stupidly snatched a cigarette box from Leander's hand and threw it into the sea...
"Naaaah. Been pretty boring 'round here, actually."
She doesn't have much leeway to adjust on her own, with him holding her as he is, but she can at least crook her elbow over his shoulder and sort-of prop up her head as she looks at his frankly too-handsome face. With a frown so slight as to barely draw a crease between her brows, she grazes her finger along a scar on his chin.
He stretches his head briefly, letting her look at it a moment. "The dead have long nails." He mutters along with it. Letting her touch and work against it. "Caught across the top of my shield."
A common mistake, when he didn't have the unbroken shield line he was used to.
She laughs at the idea of mummies trimming their nails, briefly. "Gross."
But by the time she comments on the thought, she's more focused on that scar and where it is and how easily kissed it would be. So she gives it a quick little smooch.
He tilts his head to let her, as they walk up the stairs to his quarters. Kicking the door open, because it wasn't like he ever locked it. He neither had anything worth stealing aside from his weapons, and new that people would be watching everything he did and searching his belongings anyway.
"I don't have any new scars to show," she says, drawing over the scar again with her index finger, then tapping his bottom lip lightly. Without thinking about it, she adopts the same pout his mouth is always set in, just for a moment, then smiles.
"I think I might have an old one, though. A little faded by now, I think."
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But her scowl is spoiled by the grin that always plasters itself on her face around him.
"Fighting what, then? Bears? Dracolisks? Dragons? The urge to eat an entire bakery's worth of bread? I have to fight that urge often myself."
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"Mummies. But not mothers. Which apparently are different." Trade be has decided, is a stupid language.
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"Nearly a month."
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He adjusts her weight briefly, tugging her up his chest as they wind through the courtyard, back towards his room. He won't be able to stay long, no doubt had to report down to where he pissed where he had been to satisfy their commanders. At least the lack of trust was mutual.
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"Naaaah. Been pretty boring 'round here, actually."
She doesn't have much leeway to adjust on her own, with him holding her as he is, but she can at least crook her elbow over his shoulder and sort-of prop up her head as she looks at his frankly too-handsome face. With a frown so slight as to barely draw a crease between her brows, she grazes her finger along a scar on his chin.
"This one new?"
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A common mistake, when he didn't have the unbroken shield line he was used to.
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But by the time she comments on the thought, she's more focused on that scar and where it is and how easily kissed it would be. So she gives it a quick little smooch.
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"I think I might have an old one, though. A little faded by now, I think."