"…a pinch of cinnamon, and then… No, no, perhaps I should start over."
"Josie," the Inquisitor sighed, collapsed to her couch as she watched the woman taking full control of what was supposed to be a desk. Grinders, shavers, strainers, something that looked like a torture device all lay strewn above the wooden top. And in full control of the madness was their ambassador who declared she was going to make for the Inquisitor the best damn hot chocolate one had ever tasted.
With snow billowing in from the mountains, her windows tossed open to let in the striking smell of snow, it seemed a delightful idea. That was an hour ago, before Josephine had to restart twice because she boiled the cream too long.
Rising to her feet, the Inquisitor watched Josephine bent over into a third cup of brown liquid. Sugar in both powdered and regular form flew from Josephine's hands. Whisks whipped cream into play, cinnamon and nutmeg sparkled from her fingers. It was more exciting and terrifying to watch than most rifts she'd closed.
Still. With a slow caress, the Inquisitor cuddled a hand around Josie's stomach. Her crisp ambassador golds folded inward, heat from the woman inside them wafting up to reach out. She heard Josephine chuckle as the Inquisitor dropped her chin to her shoulder to peer down.
"I am working," Josie scolded as she often did whenever the Inquisitor would wander by and have to hold her hand, have to wrap an arm around her, have to pull the overworked ambassador into her lap. Not that any of it ever slowed Josie, that quill moving at lightning speed.
"I think it's good," the Inquisitor said, fingers tugging back a tendril of black hair, her lips pressing against Josie's elongated neck.
"You are…" Josie sighed, eyes shut tight as goosebumps rose against her decadent skin while her love kissed further downward. "Trying to distract me. It will not work."
The business sheen snapped into place, the Inquisitor sighing and falling back. Josie bustled, her golden sleeves flying over the desk. "I think I have…" she inspected a sheet upon her clipboard. "Ah, yes, one more thing." Picking up a small marshmallow, she dropped it into the bubbling cup, then added a dash of crushed peppermint over top.
With a grin, Josie turned to the Inquisitor who was trying to smile. "Is that it? Are you done?"
"Yes," Josie declared, raising the mug up. "Now taste."
Her smile not dimming, she accepted the mug in her palm. It smelled of creamy chocolate and winter spices. The warmth emanating from the cup and the glow in her love's eyes begged for cuddling by the fire, for curling up under a blanket and kissing every inch of each other's bodies. There was only one small problem.
The Inquisitor did not like hot cocoa.
Pressing the mug to her lips, she took a small sip. The sugary concoction washed over her tongue and down her throat, trying to dredge up hated memories of family screaming matches during Satinalia. Her grandmother grabbing her by the ear and dragging her to the family goop ordering her to drink it straight off the stove.
"Well?" Josie chirped. Her beautiful brown eyes were begging for her to like it. To love it as she loved her.
Smiling, the Inquisitor cupped Josephine's cheek. Her thumb trailed along Josie's lips, aching to kiss them and forget the cocoa. Leaning forward, she whispered, "It's perfect because you made it," before making good on her plans.