aftermath [open post for housemates]

[illgotten]

Supper's nearly over by the time Mordred gets home, after the latest crackplot has worn off and he's finally gotten done whatever he was out doing. He elbows the front door open and slips inside, all windblown and lively. "Hi."

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[cywyllog]

Cywyllog glances up from her seat near the fire. "Yourself again, I see." Shorter, anyway.

[illgotten]

He pauses. "Sorry?"

[cywyllog]

"You are, are you not?" She frowns. "I would rather not have to determine what you do and do not remember again."

[illgotten]

Mordred looks at her again, the cheer fading. "I don't know," cautiously. "What are we talking about?"

[cywyllog]

"Earlier, at the Mansion," she explains slowly. "You were taller. Bespelled, I believe."

[illgotten]

There's another pause, while he studies her; then, muted, "I don't remember, no."

[cywyllog]

"Mmm," she noises noncommittally. "Do you at least remember what you did and did not before?"

[illgotten]

"Nothing changed, no. That I can think of." He stands very still, one hand on the back of a vacant chair, watching her uneasily. "Should there be?"

[cywyllog]

Cywyllog half shrugs one shoulder. "Not particularly, although I recall you being a far better kisser than that."

[illgotten]

"...!" Mordred says, approximately, and sits down in something of a hurry.

[cywyllog]

She snorts softly. "You need not worry. There was nothing more."

[illgotten]

He drops his head into one hand. "I'm sorry."

[cywyllog]

"There is no need for apology. You kissed your wife, nothing more."

[illgotten]

He looks at her over his fingers. "And she was absolutely thrilled, I can tell."

[cywyllog]

"Had you been... you, I might have been," she replies quietly, looking at the fire.

[illgotten]

That was not what he expected. He draws in a careful breath. "Lady, I--"