neron
Raising his eyebrows at Morgan as he settles on their sort-of-sleeping-space, Neron does indeed have a good enough imagination to conjure the Warden’s previous prowess at drinking competitions. He’s enjoying the parade of images in his mind, in fact (and if they turn into the Caido equivalent of a wet t-shirt competition halfway through, well, that’s between him and his imagination), when his companion abruptly grabs ahold of him.
”Careful,” he says with a chuckle, barely able to stop himself from being dragged off the boxes with her. Shifting to roll over and thus pull her further back onto the bed, he raises his eyebrows down at her. ”And here I thought you were the picture of grace and skill,” he says, thinking nothing of leaning up on one arm and reaching over her so he can grab the cloak instead. ”If you wanted to get close to me, though, you just had to ask.”
”Careful,” he says with a chuckle, barely able to stop himself from being dragged off the boxes with her. Shifting to roll over and thus pull her further back onto the bed, he raises his eyebrows down at her. ”And here I thought you were the picture of grace and skill,” he says, thinking nothing of leaning up on one arm and reaching over her so he can grab the cloak instead. ”If you wanted to get close to me, though, you just had to ask.”
lay your hand on me, one last time
