Kitchen: Ram/Java
((OOC: Cont. from here))
Java led her husband out of the bedroom, keeping a kittenish distance between them that allowed her to appreciate him on the sly. She wondered, vaguely, what their old henchmen would say if they could see them now, parading down the hallway with the tousled, half-clothed confidence of lovers, posture flawless and eyes wicked. Her gaze slipped down the strong lines of Ram's back, lingering a moment to appreciate the muscles his pants tried to hide, and her smile sharpened very slightly. Damn, baby...
"I'm afraid there's not much in the way of food," she apologized, not bothering to strip her eyes of their fire as her lips formed a concerned little pout. "If you're game for a late Chinese breakfast, we never did make that rice..." It felt wrong to feed him a lunch food for breakfast, even if they had slept in until God-only-knew-when; Ram was as high in her opinion as a man could be at the moment, and he deserved the absolute best. There had been platters of exotic fruits once, imported from the north by some obscure connection of Melvin's that no one had ever really understood, there had been fresh, hot bread, and meat, and a special department responsible for preparing and displaying it all... And now Ram, Lord Ram, not to mention his Queen, would be eating like Tibetan peasants. Still, desperate times... Her eyes searched his, questioningly. "Think that'd be okay?"
Java led her husband out of the bedroom, keeping a kittenish distance between them that allowed her to appreciate him on the sly. She wondered, vaguely, what their old henchmen would say if they could see them now, parading down the hallway with the tousled, half-clothed confidence of lovers, posture flawless and eyes wicked. Her gaze slipped down the strong lines of Ram's back, lingering a moment to appreciate the muscles his pants tried to hide, and her smile sharpened very slightly. Damn, baby...
"I'm afraid there's not much in the way of food," she apologized, not bothering to strip her eyes of their fire as her lips formed a concerned little pout. "If you're game for a late Chinese breakfast, we never did make that rice..." It felt wrong to feed him a lunch food for breakfast, even if they had slept in until God-only-knew-when; Ram was as high in her opinion as a man could be at the moment, and he deserved the absolute best. There had been platters of exotic fruits once, imported from the north by some obscure connection of Melvin's that no one had ever really understood, there had been fresh, hot bread, and meat, and a special department responsible for preparing and displaying it all... And now Ram, Lord Ram, not to mention his Queen, would be eating like Tibetan peasants. Still, desperate times... Her eyes searched his, questioningly. "Think that'd be okay?"