Sunlight skips along the tops of waves and reaches the shore of Xanadu. It scatters through tents and shanty housing and works its way quickly and thoroughly up the cliff to the majestic palace embedded in the mountainside.
Finally a particular window is penetrated. Within a young woman of a soft green bias sleeps for a moment more before she opens her eyes with a smile. No bad dream. She stretches her arms over her head. She sits up to marvel at the sunrise. A moment and then she out of bed and dancing to the window to look at how Xanadu presents a new day.
Celina thinks of various poetic references--discards them to just enjoy the moment.
A soft scratch at the door. Celina arches an eyebrow. Martin?
"Just a minute." If it isn't Martin she needs--well, if it is Martin, she needs to dress. She skips back to the bed to grab the bedspread and drape it about her like a sovereign's mantle. The pattern of the bedspread reminds her of waves, though she can't remember that it looked so yesterday.
Celina opens the door. Blinks once and her heart staggers. She pulls the door all the way open. "Come in, Khela." She swallows and tries to damp her beating heart a bit.
"Morning, silly. Did you think I wouldn't find you now that you are at the center?" Khela glides in with a TaKhi elegance. She smiles to punctuate the question.
A thousand words try to crowd Celina's mouth open. She swallows all of them. With her shoulder she pushes the door closed and puts her back to it staring at Khela and her sunshine halo. "Starfish, you're too beautiful."
"You aren't wearing the right color." Khela grins mysteriously. "You should be in white."
Celina smiles and tugs the heavy golden bedspread tighter to her shoulders. "This old thing? Just something lying around that I threw on."
Khela steps closer and looks deep into Celina's emerald eyes. "You are very beautiful, yourself."
Celina opens her mouth for a kiss and leans off of the door. Khela leans to her. With a deft move, Khela brings up a long knife and uses her full body weight to drive it into Celina. It penetrates just above Celina's heart and the wood of the door splinters as the point exits her back and digs in.
Celina gasps, but numbness flashes through her. Then a fire inside begins to consume. She weeps watching her last sunrise.
Khela's face melts slowly. "You really should be wearing white."
Celina conceives it is Loreena's voice now. The pain is too much so she thrashes and tries to twist away from the blade's fire.
The bedspread and linens release her twisting roll and she hits the floor besides the bed. The jolt snaps her awake. Celina blinks at the hard surface and pushes up with her hands. Drops of blood patter from her nose. Celina starts to laugh. "No. Bad. Dream." She laughs again and sits up, using a hand to staunch her bleeding nose.
Perhaps as he leaves breakfast she will join him?
Lilly awakens naturally, and with no sense of how long she's been asleep. The ordeal of the evening before has left her more tired than if she had fought a day-long battle. Lilly is aware of abilities that she has. Things Martin explained on the trip to Xanadu that were previously merely academic are now practical.
None of them are supposed to work here, though.
On a tray beside her bed is a carafe of water and a loaf of bread. Those weren't here when Lilly came in.
[Note: Lilly was allowed to sleep as long as she needed. In general, this means that anyone trying to find her was intercepted by Cambina ("Who knows how she knew? She was just there in the hallway, enforcing the GM's fiat...") who tells them that Random ordered that she be allowed to sleep it off.
The sight of food and drink causes Lilly to become very aware of the fact she is hungry. Very hungry. Sitting up, she pours a glass of water and drinks it down. It is quickly followed by a large hunk of the bread. After she has taken several bites, it occurs to her that she does not know who left it. The thought causes a momentary burst of paranoia before she settles down once again. If someone had wanted to harm her, it would have been easily done while she slept. Certainly they would not have bothered to poison her bread.
Once satiated, she rises up and goes about cleaning herself up. Once satisfied that she has herself together, Lilly ventures into the hallway. With luck someone, perhaps a servant or a page, would be nearby. If not she would simply have to seek one out.
There is no one in the hall as Lilly leaves her room, but the castle doesn't seem to be much occupied. There are a number of places she might find people, such as the kitchen, the throne room, the salle, or the studio, but she would have to go there.
With the weight of the pattern walk now lifted, Lilly finds herself marveling at Castle Xanadu for the first time. Rather than head straight towards a known gathering place, she allows herself time to wander and gather her thoughts. Now that she is rested, she contemplates the visions granted to her by the pattern. There had been meaning there, deep meaning. Doors for her to open, puzzles to solve. What should she address first, the past? The present? The future? These were things she would need to decide and soon.
First though, she wants something other than prison rations. Perhaps a piece of fruit or perhaps a celebratory glass of wine. With that in mind, she slowly begins to walk towards the kitchens.
When she arrives, Lilly finds Bleys there, getting some orange juice from what appears to be a metal cabinet built into the wall. "Good morning, sunshine," he says pleasantly in his rotund, somewhat stentorian tones. "How goes the first day of your adult life so far?"
He starts to reach for a second glass, and looks enquiringly at her.
Lilly nods, "Thank you."
She waits patiently for the juice before answering the earlier question. Once it is in hand and she has enjoyed a sip she responds, "Is that what I am now? An adult? I find it sad that we as a family allow our children to go to war." An amused grin spreads across her face only to be replaced by a shadow of concern. For the moment, she pushes that train of thought aside and continues on with the conversation at hand. "Both experiences proved to be positive however. And I am quite glad to have the burden lifted. I no longer have to concern myself with wondering if I am truly of the blood of Amber anymore. It is very freeing."
"Was this your first war, then? Your uncles tend to defer to your father in matters of war, of course. You shouldn't let how 'we as a family' are distress you before breakfast. Bad for the digestion, you know."
She chuckles. "I will remember that." After taking another sip of the juice she continues on. "And yes, it was definitely my first war. In fact it was my first time away from home. To be honest I thought my father was a bit mad when he asked me to command forces. I was completely untested. If not for my desire to prove myself to him, I might have fallen. I am told most young ladies set about making their father's proud in social circles. That would never have worked for either of us."
"That test comes later, my fair flower. If you think a knight-commander of one of the King's new orders won't face as many tests in the bower and the high hall as in the salle or field, you sadly underestimate the nature of the task you've been given," Bleys admonishes.
Lilly nods. Once upon a time, she had believed otherwise. She had lived in a fairy tale world where her sword could cut deep into the heart of any problem. Recent events have forced her to reconsider.
He moves to another metal door, opens it, and draws out a bottle, which he frowns and puts back, then chooses another. "My brother has execrable taste in champagne. He likes it cheap and flashy, like his women. Fortunately, it hardly matters for this morning's purposes."
Vialle. Cheap and flashy. Trying to wrap her mind around that thought brings a smile to Lilly's lips.
"And what purposes are those?" she asks. Surely if they were about to toast her success, it would matter - at least to Bleys. Other uses for champagne, beyond christening ships, elude her right now.
"Serious purposes indeed," says the Prince, as he continues his tasks. Bleys puts a towel over the top of the bottle and deftly works the cork with his thumbs, generating a pleasing "pop". He pours perhaps half of the bottle into a large pitcher, shrugs and pours the rest in after it. Then he chases the alcohol with the rest of the orange juice.
"Mimosas! You should try one. The wine takes the bite out of the fruit juice."
"At the moment, I am content to take your word for that," Lilly replies amiably. The thought of alcohol so soon after rising does not appeal to her at the moment. After another sip of juice, she decides to venture a change of topic.
"I do not mean to pry into your personal business Uncle, but I was wondering if you had heard from Paige. I have been rather concerned about her. Is she well?"
"Hmm," Bleys says, "Oh, Paige, yes. Seemed quite well. Has her hands full with the twins, of course..."
Lilly openly stares at him. She opens her mouth to ask the myriad of questions that are coming to mind. Before she can even begin to form one into something coherent, there is an interruption.
The Seaward cousin ambles into the area wearing a simple robe of earthen color. Celina smiles at Lilly. "Congratulations, cousin. I hope you slept well."
"What?" Lilly says turning towards Celina. She shakes her head when she realizes just how rude she must sound. "Oh, forgive me. Thank you and yes I did." She tries to offer Celina a warm smile but does not entirely succeed.
"Uncle Bleys and I were just discussing the arrival of his grandchildren. I must admit, I was not expecting them to be born so quickly. Can I assume Paige is off in Shadow then? Perhaps she found some nice, safe place far from the troubles in Arcadia?" Lilly braces herself for the answer. Knowing Paige, she has paraded the children back there all ready to meet their father. Still, there is hope for a wiser course of action.
Celina eyes the grandfatherly Bleys. Paige must be another cousin I haven't met. The list is endless.
"My daughter," he says to Celina. "Paige is in Amber, unless she's gone adventuring. I've left her with an Altamerean Knight and I think Jules put a Ranger into her household as well. I expect she'll be relocating to Xanadu or somewhere soon. A change of air will do her a world of good."
At the mention of adventuring, Lilly visibly shutters.
"I quite agree," Lilly responds. "I think it would be wise for her to relocate as soon as possible." She leaves it at that. Paige surely realizes Amber is not safe. How could she not? Even if she does not care about her own safety, she will certainly consider that of her children.
Bleys pours a mimosa and hands it to Celina.
Celina sniffs the drink, tucks her curiousity away and sips the concoction across her palette. A second sip swirls lingeringly in her mouth. The third drink brings a smile. "You should call it 'salmon's blood'. It's really good. Cheers to family." She wrinkles her nose at the bubbles.
"More power to your elbow," Bleys agrees, lifting his glass. "I think it's named after a flower that's named after either a deadly poison or a beautiful woman, but Salmon's Blood has a certain ring to it. I wonder if Random has any blood oranges here..."
Then she eyes the blank faced cabinets and wonders at solid breakfast. "What shall we make a standard morning fare at Xanadu?"
Lilly take the change of subject in stride, "I have always preferred fresh bread and fruit myself. Baked goods tend to require bakers however. I'm afraid I am not very good at such things. My foster mother tried to teach me to cook but I never really caught on."
Bleys waves the pitcher of beverage widely, coming as close as possible to spilling it without actually doing so. "Let someone else cook. Anywhere we can't conjure breakfast, we have staff. We should find them and have them bring breakfast to the salle, or we won't get good seats."
"Good seats?" Celina struggles to adapt her notion of breakfast to these legends in a palace overlooking the dawn. "Isn't the salle the chamber of blades? Is it honed edges mounted overhead for breakfast then? I'd as soon stay here and drink blood in peace. What constitutes good seats in this fellowship of fracas?"
"That would depend upon the nature of the spectacle and the opinion of the person being asked," Lilly answers. The only seat that truly interests her is on in the center of the action. Of course she doubts this is true for at least on her companions. " What sort of exhibition would you have us witness, uncle?"
Celina decides to sit next to Lilly. If she can't have a decorous conversation before breakfast, at least she can show some physical closeness and support while trying to unravel Prince Bleys' odd patter.
"What spectacle? You must have had your mind elsewhere, niece. Focus yourself. What spectacle, indeed."
A bit of color rises in Lilly's cheeks. Her gaze drops to the floor despite the fact she had not been thinking about anything other than sparring when she spoke.
He pauses. "Your cousin, Brennan is to cross blades with Random's son."
Immediately her head snaps back up to look at Bleys in the eye, "Random's son? Which one?" Garrett, she decides is not at all ready to face Brennan.
Bleys turns to a woman just entering a doorway behind Celina and Lilly. "Ah, there you are! Please arrange to send fruit and baked goods to the salle. For a dozen of us."
He looks at the girls. "Are you coming?"
"Oh," Celina offers. She looks at Lilly and then leans eyeing Bleys sideways. "Tell me this isn't some cheery affair of honor. I didn't get the impression that either man was angered with the other."
"In the salle, it is always an affair of honor." Lilly states calmly as she moves to follow Bleys. "However, I do not believe either has a reason to ask for a formal duel. If so, I may have slept longer than I thought."
"There's no quarrel I'm aware of. It's a friendly blade-crossing for our spectation. Brennan is of the school that can tell a hawk from a handsaw, which is a trait I commend unto both of you."
So Celina is up and after the two amberites. She watches them walk the hallway in front of her for a bit, studying the contrasts in their movements.
Bleys walks with seeming unawareness of his environment, but manages despite that to effortlessly flow across the hall. He reminds Celina, somehow, of a rolling cold current.
Celina ends her study and muses. Uncle Bleys has the same look as other men but is yet more pull than push.
[Bleys] "Let's try in here, shall we?"
There's an interesting taste in her mouth. Unfortunately, she's pretty sure she left her toothbrush in Amber. Perhaps orange juice would wash it away. That or coffee. Maybe both at the same time.
Solange stands and stretches, yawns, and looks around the room for either her overnight bag or a fresh carafe of coffee. Unlikely to find the coffee, but one can hope. Having found only the overnight bag, she pulls out a pair of loose drawstring pants and dons them, followed by a light blue sweatshirt with "Lauderville University" in white block letters on the front.
She spends five minutes plaiting her blond hair in one braid down her back, yawns again, and opens her door. Solange looks both ways down the hallway--perhaps a servant left a fresh carafe of coffee on a table nearby, and maybe even some croissants--finds it disappointingly deserted of breakfast items, then pads barefoot next door to her father's room.
She knocks on the door.
"Come in," Gerard's voice says.
Solange opens the door and steps in. "Morning," she smiles.
Gerard is dressed and in his chair. There are signs that he didn't have a perfectly easy time of it overnight: a few things dropped on the floor that he couldn't reach and some furniture disturbed as if he'd had to move it to get things where he wanted them.
She picks up the items on the floor on her way over to give him a hug and drops them surreptitiously on a nearby chair.
"Good morning, Solange. I hear there's to be court at noon. What are you up to until then and does it include breakfast?"
"I'm hoping it will at least include coffee," she replies, stifling another yawn, "but breakfast would be welcome. I'm thinking about going back to Amber today to tie up the loose ends on the Hardwind accounts: Opal vs. Aunt Felicity. Do I need to be here for court?"
Gerard shakes his head. "There are enough of us here to show the flag. I may return myself, if you're going. As long as Caine or Bleys stays, and some of your cousins, that should impress the locals. I'm not leaving before I've had something to eat, though, and for that we must go back to the kitchen. I hope your time in Lauderville included lessons in bachelor cooking, because there's a dearth of servants in this castle just yet."
"Why do you need to go back to Amber?" Solange asks, wanting Gerard to stay in Xanadu so Hannah can attend him.
"I don't need to," Gerard replies. "It's just a bit easier to take care of things with pages to run errands and the like."
Solange nods and runs a hand over her face, feeling a bit guilty that she overlooked this detail herself. "What can I do to help? Did you want to start transporting your things here?"
"It's not things so much as people. If I'm to stay, I'll need to talk to Random about what kind of staff he means to have. Most shadows with technology of the sort he has in this castle place less importance on personal service," Gerard explains. "With my legs, I need an orderly to help me and pages to run my errands. Those may be harder to come by, although I reckon we can bring some from Amber."
"Well..." Solange starts, thinking of logistics, "it might work well to have you stay here after all. I can go back to Amber, round up your favorite pages, and send them through to you here via your trump. That'll give you help while the king settles all the staff issues."
Gerard considers the idea. "Sending a few rascals through now might not be a bad idea. Some of my brothers have no idea how things get done when there are no servants about. If it weren't for my legs, I could manage, but I do wonder about some of the others."
Solange smiles. "A little menial labor is good for the soul. They'll fend somehow. And speaking of fending, let's go fend some breakfast for ourselves."
"All right, let's do that." Gerard wheels toward the door with Solange.
He screws his head around to look out the window at the dimly-lit sky. Good. Sun's not up yet. Plenty of time before Terce. He rises and lays the sword carefully on the couch, tugs on his boots (the old, comfortable ones) and makes his way quietly down to the deserted kitchens. Out of the cold-vault, he grabs some cold meat, cheese and an apple, and takes the lot outside through the servants' door.
Once outside, he takes a moment to breathe the dewy morning air and suppresses a desperate urge to groom horses. There certainly would not be enough time to get all the way down to the stable and back. He munches on the cheese as he leaves the doorway.
Garrett circles the castle until he finds the little pocket garden he saw from his window. It has a small grassy area surrounded by flowering shrubs. A sturdy-looking wrought-iron arbor marks its entrance. Perfect for chin-ups. Garrett sets down the food and strips off his shirt. After a few good stretches, he gets to work.
Though he's already in good shape, Garrett knows he has to be stronger if he's ever going to walk the Pattern or keep up with his cousins. He had never had to push himself at the stables. Even at the hardest times, like during haying seasons, Garrett had pitched hay all day long and not been tired while the other hands could barely walk with fatigue. Good as that was, here it is not good enough.
He starts with push-ups, fast and straight, then sit-ups and finishes with a round of chin-ups. He works for about a glass and a half, until he reckons it's time to leave to clean up for the spar. He dons his shirt and jogs up to his rooms, eating his breakfast on the way.
Garrett emerges from his rooms later, apparently having figured out both the shower and the newfangled razor, because the sparse beard is gone and his hair is still wet. He is dressed in jeans, his old boots and a grayish cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His sword is buckled at his hip and he carries Lilly's sword with him.
It's a spar. Of course Lilly will be there, unless she's still unconscious. Even then, the clang of swords anywhere in the castle should rouse her. He smiles to himself, suddenly feeling a little lighter, as he makes his way to the salle.
For a moment, Folly has the disorienting feeling of being two places at once, two times at once. But then she works out where and when she is, and smiles.
Home. And it's nowhere near noon yet. Plenty of time.
"You 'wake, love?" she murmurs softly, rolling over and snuggling a little closer to Martin.
Martin turns his head toward Folly. If Folly is looking at him, she can see both that he's smiling and that he's probably been awake for some time. He's flat on his back, and he draws up one knee to make room for Thelonious.
"Yeah," he says. "Thinking about things." His arm slide around Folly's shoulders, drawing her closer.
"Mmm," Folly says, half in acknowledgement, half in drowsy contentment as she nestles into his arms. The ill mood that last evening gripped him in troubled silence seems to have dissipated with sleep; so she ventures, "You wanna talk about it?"
"I'd rather talk about it with you than anyone else." He drops a kiss on her head, it being the most convenient part of her for him to do so to. "Just ... a lot of crap yesterday. Stuff from Rebma, other things."
Against his shoulder, Martin feels Folly nod. "I saw you and Brennan slip away from the tour yesterday." She hesitates, then adds in a much more awake voice, "He told me about Saeth."
"Yeah, I heard too. That's--difficult. When you meet Saeth, it won't be like Aisling. Sort of yes, sort of no, but not. That's why the different name. So be careful when that happens, OK?"
"I will," Folly promises. She hesitates, then asks, "You think she's likely to show up here, eventually?"
"When you're immortal, eventually is a long time. I don't think we'll see Saeth sunning itself by the falls next week or anything, but you'll run into it sooner or later." He changes the subject. "I got a chance to talk to Bleys during Lilly's walk. You've heard about Paige having twins?"
"Yeah. Brennan told me about that, too. Also that they continue to grow faster than one might expect." Martin can hear the concern in Folly's voice. "Did Bleys say--- How is she? I tried to call her last night, but I didn't get through."
"I didn't get a lot of details, but Bleys didn't leave me with the impression there was anything wrong with either Paige or the kids. He makes like the kids getting out of diapers and talking will be nothing but an improvement, but I'm not convinced he likes it. It's a puzzle, and he does like those, but not when they have the potential for as much trouble as the twins may give him."
Folly nods again and makes a soft sound, almost a grim chuckle.
Martin pets Folly's hair. "You know sometimes people miss Trumps because they're asleep, right? It doesn't mean anything. Try her later."
Folly lets his reassurances sink in, then slides an arm around his waist. "Have I told you yet today that I love you?" she asks in a much calmer tone. "I'll try her again before court, or right after."
Folly spends a few long silent moments enjoying the peace of the early morning, the warmth and strength of her lover's arms, the familiar sound of Thelonious purring away at the foot of the bed. Then she says, "Hey, I haven't really asked you yet how you're settling in to suddenly having an almost-grown-up baby brother...."
Martin frowns. "You want an honest answer to that question? No, scratch that, of course you do. Honestly? In a word, how I feel about having a little brother right now is: s**tty."
Folly makes a sympathetic noise and asks gently, "Because of the little brother, or because of the whole situation?"
"Just the whole thing." Martin frowns again. "I have enough trouble dealing with my father. I really didn't need to add a brother to the mix. The more I think about this plan to squire him to me, the more I think it's a bad idea."
Folly nods thoughtfully. "On the one hand, I can definitely see the Good Points: You're a good teacher. He's a good kid. You know first-hand the situation he's in -- maybe not all of it, but some important parts. You can probably guide him through some rough patches so he won't make a complete hotheaded teenage a** of himself. Plus, you won't screw him over for your own gain. That's important; I like Garrett.
"On the other hand.... 'Oh, my, look at that crapload of emotional baggage you're all wearing. Is it in fashion now?'" She shakes her head with a rueful chuckle. "Plus, of course, there's the extreme tactical disadvantage of having the only two known children of the king joined at the hip at all times. Along with the more subtle, potentially crazy-making disadvantage of having two grown brothers who only just met joined at the hip at all times. Great concept for a sitcom; not so funny in real life. The last thing you need is to be expected to be your new brother's keeper."
Folly sighs. "Yeah. I see your point. I don't suppose squiring is something that can be divvied up among multiple knights, is it?"
"Unfortunately, no. And you haven't even touched on one of my major concerns: the politics of it. I'm KC of Card, and if I knight him, he becomes a member of Card. Garrett says he thinks he should be in Card because it's the home guard order. That's exactly the kind of thing we don't want, home guard vs. returnees. Brennan and I discussed it--oh, s**t, I'm gonna be late!"
Martin sits bolt upright in bed, accidentally dumping Folly and disturbing Thelonious, who offers a grumpy meow. "I've gotta get dressed. I'm sparring with Brennan this morning."
Folly blows a tumble of purple bangs out of her eyes and mutters, "Silly morning-people," but Martin can hear the affectionate amusement in her tone. "You know," she muses, "I can think of better ways to get in an early-morning workout--- but I suppose that would rather leave Brennan out in the cold, wouldn't it?" She grins wickedly at Martin.
"So, will this be a private waving-about of shiny pointy things," she asks, "or can anyone watch?"
"Baby, you're always welcome when I wave it around." Martin leers and waggles his eyebrows for effect. His tone turns more serious as he answers, "Garrett's supposed to watch, so we'll have an audience. Dad was there when I told him, so I suppose he may show up too. You interested in picking up swordplay hints?"
"A little of that, yeah, and of course there's also my prurient interest in watching you move," Folly says with a wide smile of feigned innocence.
Martin turns, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed, and comes to his feet, offering a wiggle of his rear end for bonus movement.
Folly makes a playful happy-sound, almost a purr, and wonders how she got so lucky.
More seriously, she continues, "But mostly.... Well, you can tell a lot about a man from the way he handles a weapon. And I've never had the chance to watch Brennan spar."
She pushes her hair back out of her face and looks at Martin. "Y'know, if you're concerned about inadvertently drawing a line between the home guard and the returnees, you could do a lot worse than getting him on your side."
"I know." Martin offers Folly his hand to help her to her feet. "I ought not to like him, but he's one of the only people around here who seems to have a clue and the willingness to use it."
Folly smiles, glad but not surprised they're on the same page. She takes Martin's hand and rises, indulging in a cat-like stretch once she's on her feet.
"I suggested to Dad that he squire Garrett to Brennan. I don't know how Brennan feels about that, but Garrett didn't think much of the plan and I'm not sure Dad did either."
Folly settles back onto her heels and looks up at Martin. "If I had to guess, I'd say that Garrett wants to know you better. He might be more receptive to the idea of squiring for someone else if he thought you could still make that happen, y'know?"
"You missed last night's little family chat. After that I'm not so sure." Martin makes a sour face.
"I got news yesterday that the groom I interrogated in the stables was found dead in the city a couple of days after we left. I told Garrett, because the guy was apparently a friend of his, and he all but accused me of killing the guy." He blows air out, sticking out his bottom lip, and it puffs up his blond bangs. "I have blood aplenty on my hands, Folly, but it's kind of funny to get raked over the coals for one of the ones I didn't kill."
Folly frowns, but gives his hand a supportive squeeze.
A tug on Folly's hand suggests he's ready to head for the showers. "So Dad set Garrett straight on why that was a bad idea and then he asked me if I'd squire Garrett. And then we kind of argued about it, which is to say, when I started to bring up the reasons why I shouldn't do it, he said we'd make that decision later."
Folly sighs. "Well, here's hoping you'll have more of a chance to discuss it before 'later'," she says. She has quite a bit more on her mind -- not the least of which being whether the murdered groom was among the "stuff about Rebma" Martin was mulling over when she awoke -- but it's not the sort of thing she wants to discuss even in the semi-private space of the showers. And she doesn't want to make Martin even later for his spar with Brennan. There'll be time afterward to talk more.
She grabs her robe from the bedpost and offers it to Martin, along with a good-morning kiss. A slow, tender good-morning kiss. Because... well... come to think of it, maybe she wouldn't mind making him a tiny bit later....
Martin takes the robe and throws it over his shoulder. He doesn't bother to see where it lands, because his attention is suddenly otherwise engaged ...
Last modified: 3 May 2005