‘Parent goddamned teacher night! Who the hell’s idea was this nonsense and how had he gotten roped into it? This was insane and now she was being completely unreasonable. If he ever found out who invented parent teacher night he’d shoot them and –then- sort out this argument.
“They’re not –going- to figure out I’ve got a weapon. For Christ’s sake Belle how big an idiot do you think I am!”
Bellowing was very natural to Ambrose, especially when arguing. He still hadn’t quite gotten used to having the waif about and was still working on new habits. Come to think of it, where was the girl? If it were him he’d be hiding somewhere with his ear glued to a door trying to hear everything. That in mind he managed to lower his voice to more of a growl.
“The last time you talked me into leaving the gun look what happened. I’m not going to a school and bringing home ten more of ‘em and I’m not going to sit by while some freak of nature man handles you.”
He glowered at her, jaw clenched. In his mind taking the gun, -any- gun was just being prepared. Like the boy scouts. Not that he’d ever been a scout, (had they even been invented when he was a kid?) or was even remotely scout material the point was if there was protecting of his little family, including the stray, to be done then he was going to do it. And he wasn’t holding back because some public school bureaucrat who wouldn’t have even made a decent snack was afraid of a few firearms. Besides the odds were he wasn’t going to shoot any one. At least he wasn’t planning on it.
Round Two... (attn: Ambrose)
"I'm not being picky," Ysabel insisted. "This time you really do have to leave the gun at home."
She and Ambrose were glaring at each other across the large bed in the master suite of Ysabel's home outside Heolfor Manor. Given what had heppened the last time she'd convinced Ambrose to leave his gun off, she could understand his trepidation in repeating that act now. Still, though...
"It's parent-teacher night at Marie's new school," she pointed out for the hundredth time. "No one there is going to be armed. And think what could happen to her if anyone discovers you've got a weapon."
She shook her head. If anyone tried to take her familiar away... no. Hands on her hips she tightened her lips into a prim little line. "The gun must stay. Bring it in the truck if you must, but not into the school."
Ambrose
15 years ago
Ysabel
15 years ago
Ysabel primly pursed her lips, ignoring what she assumed was a rhetorical question regarding Amber's IQ. She let him rant a little bit before raising a questioning eyebrow at him.
"Have you read the news at all in the past ten years? High school shootings, children with firearms... many schools have metal detectors now. If someone searches you, how are you going to explain the gun?"
Switching tactics from vinegar to sugar, she parted her lips appealingy and offered a soft sigh. "At least leave it in the truck please, Amber. We'll be parked as close as we can get to the school. What can happen in the ten feet between the truck and the building?"
That was her best appeal; Ambrose would use the handicapped spot without fail. He loved being able to park close. Ysabel knew he was going to dig in his heels on this issue, but she wouldn't jeopardize her familiar's social wellbeing by being caught doing something dangerous and illegal.
Awaiting his next explosion, she returned to pinning her gently-curled blonde locks into an old-fashioned style on her head. There was very little she could do about her age; judiciously applied makeup and artful shadows had made her look, perhaps, in her mid to late twenties instead of the teen she'd been when turned. Her outfit helped; she had decided to fall back on her part time job as a tour guide for the historical society to explain her outmoded style of dress.
For Ambrose's part he'd gone with minimal shaving for the last few days, and had grown out a respectable moustache. That, combined with his prematurely salt-and-pepper hair, gave him a distinct middle-aged appearance. Ysabel found it appealing.
"Have you read the news at all in the past ten years? High school shootings, children with firearms... many schools have metal detectors now. If someone searches you, how are you going to explain the gun?"
Switching tactics from vinegar to sugar, she parted her lips appealingy and offered a soft sigh. "At least leave it in the truck please, Amber. We'll be parked as close as we can get to the school. What can happen in the ten feet between the truck and the building?"
That was her best appeal; Ambrose would use the handicapped spot without fail. He loved being able to park close. Ysabel knew he was going to dig in his heels on this issue, but she wouldn't jeopardize her familiar's social wellbeing by being caught doing something dangerous and illegal.
Awaiting his next explosion, she returned to pinning her gently-curled blonde locks into an old-fashioned style on her head. There was very little she could do about her age; judiciously applied makeup and artful shadows had made her look, perhaps, in her mid to late twenties instead of the teen she'd been when turned. Her outfit helped; she had decided to fall back on her part time job as a tour guide for the historical society to explain her outmoded style of dress.
For Ambrose's part he'd gone with minimal shaving for the last few days, and had grown out a respectable moustache. That, combined with his prematurely salt-and-pepper hair, gave him a distinct middle-aged appearance. Ysabel found it appealing.
Ambrose
15 years ago
It took a lot of effort not to snap that in his day… OK they didn’t take guns to school. The teachers didn’t allow that. And yes, he had read the damned news and knew kids loved to shoot each other for some reason.
“Yeah I’ve seen the news and given how dangerous the damned ankle bitters are I’d call it self defense.”
Pretty above average logic if you asked him, Ambrose was rather proud of himself.
There was no other word for it but growl, although it was hard to say if it was hostile or horny. Crazy woman was –not- playing fair and she knew it, he had no doubt she knew it.
“Ten feet from the school and then what? We’ll be buried in that damned academic prison and where will the gun be, miles away. Firearm doesn’t do a bit of good if you –don’t- -have- -it- -with- -you-!”
The last few words were spoken quite deliberately with particular emphasis.
He fidgeted with his mustache. He didn’t generally wear one any more, not for years and it was unfamiliar. Belle, however, almost seemed to be enjoying creating the part she was to play and it might be nice to not get any ‘robbing the cradle’ stares tonight. Not that he minded, at least not too much, when they went out. Most people didn’t say anything about the apparent difference in their ages, and those that thought about it tended to shut up quickly when he scowled at them.
Part of him also thought she just might… possibly a tiny tiny bit… be enjoying this fight. It was hard to tell. Lord knows he’d be enjoying it, at least he would if he were winning. And while he wasn’t ready to give up, Ambrose knew it was a loosing battle.
“Yeah I’ve seen the news and given how dangerous the damned ankle bitters are I’d call it self defense.”
Pretty above average logic if you asked him, Ambrose was rather proud of himself.
There was no other word for it but growl, although it was hard to say if it was hostile or horny. Crazy woman was –not- playing fair and she knew it, he had no doubt she knew it.
“Ten feet from the school and then what? We’ll be buried in that damned academic prison and where will the gun be, miles away. Firearm doesn’t do a bit of good if you –don’t- -have- -it- -with- -you-!”
The last few words were spoken quite deliberately with particular emphasis.
He fidgeted with his mustache. He didn’t generally wear one any more, not for years and it was unfamiliar. Belle, however, almost seemed to be enjoying creating the part she was to play and it might be nice to not get any ‘robbing the cradle’ stares tonight. Not that he minded, at least not too much, when they went out. Most people didn’t say anything about the apparent difference in their ages, and those that thought about it tended to shut up quickly when he scowled at them.
Part of him also thought she just might… possibly a tiny tiny bit… be enjoying this fight. It was hard to tell. Lord knows he’d be enjoying it, at least he would if he were winning. And while he wasn’t ready to give up, Ambrose knew it was a loosing battle.
Ysabel
15 years ago
Placing one last pin Ysabel turned this way and that, unable to find a flaw in her masses of blonde locks. It had taken her years to perfect the art of maintaining her own hair but it had been a necessary skill. Now she was glad for it.
Ambrose's tone of voice was not unfamiliar to her. She allowed herself a private smile; she was winning this round. While she was still not entirely comfortable with arguing, Ambrose had stressed on many occasions his desire for her to voice her opinion. She was learning to do so, generally only with him, but she admitted she enjoyed it just a little. For one thing she noted that arguing was not necessarily a bad thing to Amber. He was a temperamental person, emotional and impulsive. Those weren't bad traits in Ysabel's opinion; it just meant he related to things differently.
In addition, she thought with a little grin, her arguing seemed to turn him on. So she turned from the mirror, drifted over to where he stood, and walked in a little circle around him. Trailing her fingers over the muscular plane of his stomach, she stopped behind him, stood on her tip-toes, and whispered into his ear.
"The gun stays in the car."
Of all the things to argue about - but that was Ambrose for you.
Ambrose's tone of voice was not unfamiliar to her. She allowed herself a private smile; she was winning this round. While she was still not entirely comfortable with arguing, Ambrose had stressed on many occasions his desire for her to voice her opinion. She was learning to do so, generally only with him, but she admitted she enjoyed it just a little. For one thing she noted that arguing was not necessarily a bad thing to Amber. He was a temperamental person, emotional and impulsive. Those weren't bad traits in Ysabel's opinion; it just meant he related to things differently.
In addition, she thought with a little grin, her arguing seemed to turn him on. So she turned from the mirror, drifted over to where he stood, and walked in a little circle around him. Trailing her fingers over the muscular plane of his stomach, she stopped behind him, stood on her tip-toes, and whispered into his ear.
"The gun stays in the car."
Of all the things to argue about - but that was Ambrose for you.
Ambrose
15 years ago
Everything about his body language was closed off. Jaw set, arms crossed, weight set like he was ready for a fight, well as close as he could get being down a leg. He was quite ready for a knock down drag out fight, but damned it Belle wasn’t playing by the rules.
It was great that she was giving him any grief at all, some little part of his brain acknowledged he was happy she wasn’t backing down. However, he was also being unreasonably stubborn and wanted his gun.
Waiting for another verbal assault, or barb, he watched her suspiciously as she approached. Witch wasn’t playing by the rules and while he refused to turn around feeling her touch, soft breath in his ear his jaw loosened just a little. He –really- didn’t want to lose like this, but….
Determinedly he picked up his holster from the bed, checked the gun, and made sure it was loaded. Still he didn’t put it on, he didn’t even put it in the shoulder holster he’d tossed on a chair earlier. He just shoved it back in its holster and carrying it snatched up his cane.
“What the hell name are you using again?”
Ambrose was now going to pretend the argument hadn’t happened. He hadn’t agreed to leave the gun in the tuck, but he wasn’t making any clear moves to take it inside or keep it on his person. Maybe if he ignored the issue he could still win.
It was great that she was giving him any grief at all, some little part of his brain acknowledged he was happy she wasn’t backing down. However, he was also being unreasonably stubborn and wanted his gun.
Waiting for another verbal assault, or barb, he watched her suspiciously as she approached. Witch wasn’t playing by the rules and while he refused to turn around feeling her touch, soft breath in his ear his jaw loosened just a little. He –really- didn’t want to lose like this, but….
Determinedly he picked up his holster from the bed, checked the gun, and made sure it was loaded. Still he didn’t put it on, he didn’t even put it in the shoulder holster he’d tossed on a chair earlier. He just shoved it back in its holster and carrying it snatched up his cane.
“What the hell name are you using again?”
Ambrose was now going to pretend the argument hadn’t happened. He hadn’t agreed to leave the gun in the tuck, but he wasn’t making any clear moves to take it inside or keep it on his person. Maybe if he ignored the issue he could still win.
Ysabel
15 years ago
Ysabel ignored the subject change for a moment, smiling softly as Ambrose stubbornly picked the gun up and carried it with him. A child with a safety blanket, that's what he was.
She let him move away but went toward him again. "My own," she replied in answer to his question. Her identity as Ysabel Yolgrave was valid; the only things she had to fake were her age and their papers, verifying them as Marie's legal guardians. With Ambrose's connections and her money, that had not been a problem. Making herself appear older was more for the comfort of Marie's teachers than for anything else. Ysabel had no doubt that if anyone checked their story they would be clean and legal; she and Ambrose had been doing this sort of thing for too many years to get it wrong.
Slipping one arm under Ambrose's, she tickled her fingernails along his side until she brushed he cool metal of the gun. Walking back around in front of him she pressed up to him, pulling the weapon from its holster and stroking the barrel in a very suggestive manner. This wasn't always the way to win her lover over, but tonight it seemed to be.
Standing on her toes once more, she brushed her lips lightly against his.
"Gun. Truck. We won't have Marie along. If anything goes wrong, I'll wisp away and you'll have only yourself to worry about."
Ysabel assumed Ambrose's chief desire for the weapon was to protect her, but Ysabel didn't necessarily require protecting. Certainly she'd been caught off-guard before, but if anything went wrong tonight she would be sure to react much faster.
She let him move away but went toward him again. "My own," she replied in answer to his question. Her identity as Ysabel Yolgrave was valid; the only things she had to fake were her age and their papers, verifying them as Marie's legal guardians. With Ambrose's connections and her money, that had not been a problem. Making herself appear older was more for the comfort of Marie's teachers than for anything else. Ysabel had no doubt that if anyone checked their story they would be clean and legal; she and Ambrose had been doing this sort of thing for too many years to get it wrong.
Slipping one arm under Ambrose's, she tickled her fingernails along his side until she brushed he cool metal of the gun. Walking back around in front of him she pressed up to him, pulling the weapon from its holster and stroking the barrel in a very suggestive manner. This wasn't always the way to win her lover over, but tonight it seemed to be.
Standing on her toes once more, she brushed her lips lightly against his.
"Gun. Truck. We won't have Marie along. If anything goes wrong, I'll wisp away and you'll have only yourself to worry about."
Ysabel assumed Ambrose's chief desire for the weapon was to protect her, but Ysabel didn't necessarily require protecting. Certainly she'd been caught off-guard before, but if anything went wrong tonight she would be sure to react much faster.
Ambrose
15 years ago
He was the one who had set up the papers, well one of his contacts had but he'd provided the details, so he knew what name she'd be using. But it was a handy side step as he didn't want to talk about the gun any more, he wanted her to forget it.
And... she wasn't forgetting. Damned woman. Ambrose glowered as she (wo)man handed his weapon, he didn't let -any one- touch it. Damned that sounded dirty, and from the looks of her that's what she'd intended. She was apparently going to double entendre her way into a win tonight. It was taking effort to stand straight and still, an immovable rock. Fuck that.
Even the thought of some one hurting or trying to hurt her made him feel -very- possessive. He snatched the gun back and effortlessly holstered it while dropping his can and roughly pulling Belle even closer to him. While he was careful not to mess her dress or hair he did sink his fangs into her neck. He was neat about it, and not abusive but needed to know she was his. Pulling back he nodded at her in terse agreement.
"OK but you remember that. I'm not going to be happy if some one tries to hurt you."Â?
If they had been taking the waif he'd probably have put up more of a fight. He might not quite understand the girl, not always, but if the stray was Belle's and Bell was his then the chica was his too and he'd protect her as well.
Letting himself relax now that the fight was over, even if he had lost, his eyes twinkled as he added slyly.
"You're worried about me and a metal detector and you're promising to turn into a ghost. All things considered I think the gun would be less damaging to her reputation."Â?
Of course right about now he was wishing he'd pointed out that his leg would set off a metal detector just as surely as his gun would and he'd heard the waif's school was in a good neighborhood and it probably wouldn't even -have- metal detectors but damned it... it was too late. They could have this argument again next year and he'd add those thoughts to his arsenal.
And... she wasn't forgetting. Damned woman. Ambrose glowered as she (wo)man handed his weapon, he didn't let -any one- touch it. Damned that sounded dirty, and from the looks of her that's what she'd intended. She was apparently going to double entendre her way into a win tonight. It was taking effort to stand straight and still, an immovable rock. Fuck that.
Even the thought of some one hurting or trying to hurt her made him feel -very- possessive. He snatched the gun back and effortlessly holstered it while dropping his can and roughly pulling Belle even closer to him. While he was careful not to mess her dress or hair he did sink his fangs into her neck. He was neat about it, and not abusive but needed to know she was his. Pulling back he nodded at her in terse agreement.
"OK but you remember that. I'm not going to be happy if some one tries to hurt you."Â?
If they had been taking the waif he'd probably have put up more of a fight. He might not quite understand the girl, not always, but if the stray was Belle's and Bell was his then the chica was his too and he'd protect her as well.
Letting himself relax now that the fight was over, even if he had lost, his eyes twinkled as he added slyly.
"You're worried about me and a metal detector and you're promising to turn into a ghost. All things considered I think the gun would be less damaging to her reputation."Â?
Of course right about now he was wishing he'd pointed out that his leg would set off a metal detector just as surely as his gun would and he'd heard the waif's school was in a good neighborhood and it probably wouldn't even -have- metal detectors but damned it... it was too late. They could have this argument again next year and he'd add those thoughts to his arsenal.
Ysabel
15 years ago
Ysabel sniffed at Ambrose's arguments, which were prefectly valid. She'd considered the very points he was making now and had opted to simply hope she wouldn't have to go back to square one, which was 'pointing out the unlikelihood of running into any trouble at a high school orientation.'
She figured it was enough that she'd won this round. She smiled with a sigh of pleasure as Ambrose possessively bit into her skin; delicately for him. Never having had a vampire lover before, she hadn't realized what a bite could mean, beyond feeding herself. She understood the implications when Amber expressed himself that way. He was territorial and she was his territory. Ysabel was comfortable with that; she'd grown up in an era where women were property. While she knew how to think outside that box now, she certainly didn't mind that attitude. In someways it made her feel safer, more secure.
Melting against him briefly she wrapped her arms around his waist, shamelessly molding herself to the contours of his body. Then, regretfully, she pulled away. There wasn't time for that game, much as she'd love to play it. It would have to wait for later.
Instead she sufficed with a whispered, "Thank you" to Ambrose for his capitulation, and stepped away to slip her hand into his.
Nights like this, she wanted to tell him how much she loved him - but Ambrose wasn't comfortable with the term. Someday, perhaps, it would becaome part of their vocabulary, but for now she knew he loved her and it didn't need to be said.
"We'll be late," she said. "We'd better go, Isaac."
She used his stage name with a mischievous smile. Ambrose performed under the name Isaac Ray, and that was the name he went by in the human world. So there he was tonight, Isaac Ray, Marie's foster father.
Tonight would be interesting.
She figured it was enough that she'd won this round. She smiled with a sigh of pleasure as Ambrose possessively bit into her skin; delicately for him. Never having had a vampire lover before, she hadn't realized what a bite could mean, beyond feeding herself. She understood the implications when Amber expressed himself that way. He was territorial and she was his territory. Ysabel was comfortable with that; she'd grown up in an era where women were property. While she knew how to think outside that box now, she certainly didn't mind that attitude. In someways it made her feel safer, more secure.
Melting against him briefly she wrapped her arms around his waist, shamelessly molding herself to the contours of his body. Then, regretfully, she pulled away. There wasn't time for that game, much as she'd love to play it. It would have to wait for later.
Instead she sufficed with a whispered, "Thank you" to Ambrose for his capitulation, and stepped away to slip her hand into his.
Nights like this, she wanted to tell him how much she loved him - but Ambrose wasn't comfortable with the term. Someday, perhaps, it would becaome part of their vocabulary, but for now she knew he loved her and it didn't need to be said.
"We'll be late," she said. "We'd better go, Isaac."
She used his stage name with a mischievous smile. Ambrose performed under the name Isaac Ray, and that was the name he went by in the human world. So there he was tonight, Isaac Ray, Marie's foster father.
Tonight would be interesting.
Ambrose
15 years ago
There was another growl, but this one was much –much- happier, more content. Although he was now very much considering messing her hair, make up and other items on her person; right that would have to be for later. He nuzzled her neck about where he’d bit her and let her lead him out. Belle had, as she nearly always did, silently given him just the answer and reassurance he needed.
She was learning to argue and he was learning to lose; on very rare occasion. All things considered it was good.
He snorted at the use of his stage name. Isaac was his middle name and the Ray well he had no idea where that had come from, some desperate moment years ago. Isaac Ray was also the name all his wanted posters showed, and the mustache was left over from those days too, maybe that was part of the reason he was so insistent on having his gun. Ambrose shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on the object at hand. What was the object at hand?
“Yeah, late that would be a crying shame.”
He wouldn’t mind missing this event, not at all. But apparently it was a big deal for the waif and ergo for Belle. If she had really wanted to take a familiar why not one that could at least legally order a drink?
Leading Belle out to the truck he opened the door for her.
“So what am I supposed to do again?”
God why couldn’t she just ask him to shoot some one?
She was learning to argue and he was learning to lose; on very rare occasion. All things considered it was good.
He snorted at the use of his stage name. Isaac was his middle name and the Ray well he had no idea where that had come from, some desperate moment years ago. Isaac Ray was also the name all his wanted posters showed, and the mustache was left over from those days too, maybe that was part of the reason he was so insistent on having his gun. Ambrose shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on the object at hand. What was the object at hand?
“Yeah, late that would be a crying shame.”
He wouldn’t mind missing this event, not at all. But apparently it was a big deal for the waif and ergo for Belle. If she had really wanted to take a familiar why not one that could at least legally order a drink?
Leading Belle out to the truck he opened the door for her.
“So what am I supposed to do again?”
God why couldn’t she just ask him to shoot some one?
Ysabel
15 years ago
Ysabel laughed softly at Ambrose's claim that being late would be so regretful. She knew the truth. Even if she weren't adept at speaking fluent Ambrose by now, the irony was written all over his face. She shook her head with a smile, accompanied him out to the truck, and floated gracefully into the passenger seat when he opened the door for her.
"You are to act normal," she said as Ambrose climbed in behind the wheel. "Or at least as close to normal as possible. You will not shoot, stab, punch, or growl at anyone." She laid a stern eye upon him, realizing she had just cut Ambrose's means of communication in half and knowing he'd be thrilled with it. "Remember we're a happily married couple and Marie is our foster child. I don't want her taken away, so we mustn't do anything that looks suspicious."
Glancing at her attire she shrugged. "We're already odd enough."
She wondered briefly if she should have swallowed her pride, just once, for Marie, and worn something more modern. Not jeans or anything, but at least a less obvious outfit. But at least this way she could say she'd been to work; the historical society often ran night-time tours because of the many legends surrounding the old houses in that area. Fans of the supernatural came from far and wide to tour after dusk.
"With any luck," she said, "there will be too many other parents there for us to draw any sort of special attention."
She smiled hopefully at Amber but she knew deep down it was she who would draw the most stares and the most attention. Ambrose looked well; a respectable working man in his early 30's, with the moustache. She could maybe pass for being in her 20's, but her clothing, as always, would draw stares.
"You are to act normal," she said as Ambrose climbed in behind the wheel. "Or at least as close to normal as possible. You will not shoot, stab, punch, or growl at anyone." She laid a stern eye upon him, realizing she had just cut Ambrose's means of communication in half and knowing he'd be thrilled with it. "Remember we're a happily married couple and Marie is our foster child. I don't want her taken away, so we mustn't do anything that looks suspicious."
Glancing at her attire she shrugged. "We're already odd enough."
She wondered briefly if she should have swallowed her pride, just once, for Marie, and worn something more modern. Not jeans or anything, but at least a less obvious outfit. But at least this way she could say she'd been to work; the historical society often ran night-time tours because of the many legends surrounding the old houses in that area. Fans of the supernatural came from far and wide to tour after dusk.
"With any luck," she said, "there will be too many other parents there for us to draw any sort of special attention."
She smiled hopefully at Amber but she knew deep down it was she who would draw the most stares and the most attention. Ambrose looked well; a respectable working man in his early 30's, with the moustache. She could maybe pass for being in her 20's, but her clothing, as always, would draw stares.
Ambrose
15 years ago
Making sure the gun well easily accessible, yet well hidden in the extended cab, he listened to her definition of normal. It didn’t leave a lot of room to maneuver and the surly look on his face, complete with one eyebrow raised, said so in no uncertain terms.
“I could just stay at home you know.”
But he didn’t mean it.
The idea of them being a happily married couple, it wasn’t a bad idea and Ambrose wondered if there was a hint buried in there some where. He was reasonably certain that this flying with out a net and/or lack of contract must be at the very least odd for Belle. But it was comfortable for him. Besides, how could you swear ‘until death do you part’ when you were both dead; even if one of them had been human it would have made more sense to him. He shoved those thoughts aside and made note to have that fight later.
“They won’t take her away.”
He promised. Even if he lost it and drop kicked the principal they wouldn’t take Belle’s pet.
Leaning over before fastening his seat belt and pulling out he softly kissed her.
“We are not odd. Neither of us. Now let’s see what these bastards have to say about the waif.”
It was all said with finality, after all you didn’t mess with what was his.
((ooc: Ambrose and Ysabel out))
“I could just stay at home you know.”
But he didn’t mean it.
The idea of them being a happily married couple, it wasn’t a bad idea and Ambrose wondered if there was a hint buried in there some where. He was reasonably certain that this flying with out a net and/or lack of contract must be at the very least odd for Belle. But it was comfortable for him. Besides, how could you swear ‘until death do you part’ when you were both dead; even if one of them had been human it would have made more sense to him. He shoved those thoughts aside and made note to have that fight later.
“They won’t take her away.”
He promised. Even if he lost it and drop kicked the principal they wouldn’t take Belle’s pet.
Leaning over before fastening his seat belt and pulling out he softly kissed her.
“We are not odd. Neither of us. Now let’s see what these bastards have to say about the waif.”
It was all said with finality, after all you didn’t mess with what was his.
((ooc: Ambrose and Ysabel out))