Edmund is currently barefoot, sprawled out on his bed, with tea on the table behind him and Derry dozing in front of him, absently sketching, trying not to get too much pencil on his fingertips, and failing miserably.
"Wash," she informs him, not seeming like she's going to move any time soon. "Just met him. Apparently knows River and Simon. He's a pilot. And that's flattery. But I'll thank you for it."
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"Eating should not take so much energy. But apparently, despite not being able to see straight? Can still tell stories. Good to know."
She could move to the bed...
Nah. Leaning against the door works for now.
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"Your stories are lovely, my lovely. Who was this one for?"
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He smiles, a little.
"Not flattery. Truth."
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