(Untitled)
Candice arrives home late on Saturday evening in lieu of the promised Friday, for which she is, of course, very sorry, but she does think Martel will be understanding. She got her job done with only a few setbacks, and is arriving home tired and eager to reacquaint herself with the castle she's come to think of as being as much hers as it is
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Since Candice was later than expected...well, after running out of things to do in the castle, Martel went in search of entertainment to divert himself. One day's not immediate cause for concern, after all-
So, the lord of the castle isn't home when she returns, but he hears about her within about two minutes of getting back to Valdis himself. (Ewar's a bright young man.)
"Hello, there."
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Candice shifts in the bed--she's wearing a tank top and underwear, this constitutes 'undressed' for her and the multitude of layers she likes to wear--and looks up, smiling at him slightly.
"Surprise," she offers, mildly.
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"You're late," he informs her, but he's smiling and he comes to kiss her when the door is closed behind him.
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"I know, I know. Something came up." There are fingerprint-shaped bruises arcing over one bare thigh, a healing cut over one arm, but no bandages, so she's okay. Nothing broken. She sits up to kiss Martel, though she'll keep talking to stave of the inevitable collision of bodies. (Look, Candice knows how they operate.)
"What have you been up to in my absence?"
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"Of course it did." He can be tolerantly affectionate when she's home and safe and only a day behind when she should've been, though he takes the opportunity of her having sat up to examine these injuries. With his hands, great, Martel, that probably hurts.
"I've been keeping busy." This could mean anything.
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She sucks in a breath sharply, but doesn't move away from his hands, because... uh, he probably is enjoying herself and she doesn't mind. After all, she's missed him touching her.
"With?"
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Touching Candice is one of Martel's favourite things to do, it's true. "Making new acquaintances," he says, almost dismissively.
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She inches back on the bed away from his hands, although this really just serves to make her more surrounded by blankets and mattress in a bed this huge.
"Like?" Holding her own body hostage to get information out of Martel. What is their relationship. (Telling him he can't have something makes him more persistent about trying to get it, and she likes that.)
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"Alexander Georgiou," he supplies, following her up the bed as she must have predicted he would. "He stopped by and I took the opportunity to show my students a contest of equals."
...it sounds really innocent when he puts it that way.
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She gives him a long look, but relents--it doesn't sound like anything she really needs to object to much. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
Says the woman who looks like she's been tossed around by the leg.
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"Hardly." Knocked around some, though, and you can tell; if Martel was interested in a challenge, well, he got one. Good job, guys. "Ask the novices, if you like. They were very attentive."
They were shamelessly egging them on, actually.
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"I don't doubt it." She props herself up on her elbows. "I suppose you didn't have much time to miss me, then."
Her tone is teasing.
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"Bite your tongue." See, like this - Martel appears to have invited himself to show her how biting works. On her neck.
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"I've been back an hour," she pretends to protest, laughing a little breathily, "but I did miss you."
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"Good." Martel holds off 'obediently', amused. "What kept you?"
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"There was a remnant haunting left over from the woman's psychological trauma. She was pretty upset by everything that had happened and blamed her husband for not listening to her and moving them out when she asked, so her psyche created a projection that was attacking him."
She casually slides her hands into Martel's shirt while talking. Hi.
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