"For shame," she agrees, a soft cluck of the tongue and a gentler huff of breath for punctuation.
"I'd say that at least you're cleverer now for it, but—" A pointed look strays in the direction of his forearm (and, entirelly incidentally, toward the occupation of his thumb). Nevermind also that clever men find a way of slithering out from under the obligation of fighting other people's wars.
Fitcher tips her face back to him, a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. It's a funny joke.
"Good thing you're so charming," is a funnier one, though instead of laughing at her own excellent sense of humor she leans after his mouth. Less carefully.
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"I'd say that at least you're cleverer now for it, but—" A pointed look strays in the direction of his forearm (and, entirelly incidentally, toward the occupation of his thumb). Nevermind also that clever men find a way of slithering out from under the obligation of fighting other people's wars.
Fitcher tips her face back to him, a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. It's a funny joke.
"Good thing you're so charming," is a funnier one, though instead of laughing at her own excellent sense of humor she leans after his mouth. Less carefully.