Gently! {Closed to Buttercup}
Westley was having some difficulty coordinating his movements... and focusing his eyes. It reminded him of the infrequent times he'd imbibed a bit too much with his comrades.
He hadn't done anything of the kind in this place, however. (Despite the frequent wish to do so at the constant temptation provided by his current living arrangements.)
Imagining Buttercup bathing in the next room... had a... well... it affected him deeply.
... no need to travel down that road....
This had all started--
(Yes, he needed to change the subject.)
--It had all started after that scandalously dressed woman at the front desk had patted his cheek and told him he was 'cute'. Merely wishing to ask after the nearest tavern--as an information gathering source which had nothing whatever to do with Buttercup and bathing rooms, of course--he had felt quite surprised at her behavior.
Come to think of it... she had appeared to be a trifle inebriated.
Odd.
And, now, here he was. Back in his room. His room and Buttercup's room. There was the bed. Good. He removed his sword and rested it against the wall, then flopped onto the bed. A strange lassitude settled over him like a weighted blanket and he closed his eyes.
He hadn't done anything of the kind in this place, however. (Despite the frequent wish to do so at the constant temptation provided by his current living arrangements.)
Imagining Buttercup bathing in the next room... had a... well... it affected him deeply.
... no need to travel down that road....
This had all started--
(Yes, he needed to change the subject.)
--It had all started after that scandalously dressed woman at the front desk had patted his cheek and told him he was 'cute'. Merely wishing to ask after the nearest tavern--as an information gathering source which had nothing whatever to do with Buttercup and bathing rooms, of course--he had felt quite surprised at her behavior.
Come to think of it... she had appeared to be a trifle inebriated.
Odd.
And, now, here he was. Back in his room. His room and Buttercup's room. There was the bed. Good. He removed his sword and rested it against the wall, then flopped onto the bed. A strange lassitude settled over him like a weighted blanket and he closed his eyes.