He let her, still massaging her muscles gently with the goal of making her feel at least physically better when she woke. With any luck, she was near the worst of the withdrawal, and the next few days should see both her and Jim on the slow road to improvement. With luck.

She experienced the sort of dreams that happen when one is half asleep - the daydreams of reality shifted just slightly on its axis, of melting walls and improbable physics. When she woke, again, the water was cooler, the bubbles flatter.

He noticed her stirring as he drained the bath. The water had gone cold and he was ready to move. It didn't particularly matter to him whether she woke or not, he could easily dry her off and get her to the bed.

"Hey," she mumbled as she strayed into consciousness, stifling a yawn. "Mm. How long we been in here?"

"Just under an hour," he said, pulling the drain on the tub as he stood, grabbing their towels and passing her one.

"Damn, sorry for making you prune up," she sighed, getting up and taking the towel he handed her, beginning to dry off.

He just shrugged, drying off, his scars standing out in pale relief against his water-reddened skin. It was odd that the bath hadn't bothered him, but the lack of dripping had worked well. He'd have to keep that in mind for the next while. "You seemed relaxed."

"I was," she sighed, drying off her hair. She needed to have it cut soon. "But bed sounds better."

He nodded, walking back out into the next room to hunt down a clean pair of boxers. "Alright. You can sleep and I'll get some work done."

"Okay," she agreed, tossing the towel onto the counter and following him into the bedroom to collapse naked on the bed, eventually crawling between the covers with a sigh.

He headed for the living room to grab his laptop before walking back over to flop onto the bed next to her.

She was relieved she didn't have to ask him to stay with her. Would she have? Yeah, but she wouldn't have enjoyed it. She curled up and closed her eyes.

He booted up his computer, glancing over at her as she curled up. They had an unspoken understanding on a lot of things, which suited his taciturn nature just fine.

She fell asleep with relief, the stress his absence had been cultivating relieved. She hated it when the bed was empty.

He started getting to work, trying not to get frustrated by the state the network was in. Things had fallen through the cracks. They were under investigation on several corners, and they were baring their throats in a few others.

When she woke up again, he was pretty much in the same position as he had been. She shifted a little to rest her cheek on his hip, looking at the screen. "How's it going?"

"Fucking terribly," he muttered under his breath. "God forbid we ever die."

"Please. Fuck em if we die. I don't care, I'm dead," she snorted, letting her eyes drift shut, just resting them. "How was Jim, anyways?"

"He was fine," he said with a small shrug. "I guess readers don't struggle as much. Mind over matter." No matter how much he trusted her, he still had a duty to Jim, and image was part of it.

"That's bullshit, don't feed that to me," she scoffed, sitting up, suddenly inexplicably angry. "Mind over matter? Fuck that. It's lack of opportunity, doesn't matter what your fucking IQ is. Fucking hell, mind over matter," she growled snarkily sliding off the bed in a huff and stalking towards the living room.

Shit. "Don't fucking run off," he snorted, standing up. "It's Jim. What the hell do you expect? Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to and then get pissed about the answer."

"I LIVED with that junkie for twelve months, Sebastian," she spat, whipping around in the doorway, "I saw him descend to the same damn levels every other addict does. Jim or not, he's just as bad as I am, if not worse. I've dealt with this before. He hasn't."

"And even were that the case, would you expect me to be able to say that? Jesus Christ, Harrison, think for a fucking second! Don't ask fucking moronic questions."

"I'm tired! I'd just woken up! You know what's a good evasive answer, Moran? Fine. He's fine. Or 'what do you think?' But don't feed me bullshit. Don't do that."

"That's my job," he snarled. "Just like it was my job to get you out, and it will be my job to keep you both sober and pull this company up by its bootstraps. So grow the fuck up and let me do it."

She let out an angry laugh, raking a hand through her still-damp hair. "I'm not asking you not to lie to me, Sebastian. Lie to me all you fucking want. But don't treat me like a child." She turned and left the room.

He stared after her, and then walked over and opened the door wide between them so that he could see her as he went back to work.

She sank down onto the couch and curled back up, in a sullen silence. She was not happy. The lack of drugs had a lot to do with it.

He returned to work, at this point just trying to catalog the damage and get an idea of how best to handle the situation.

She fell asleep again, deciding that it was for the best just to sleep the irritability off. Fuck Jim and his fantasy control.

He worked until long after night fell. Harrison woke occasionally, but didn't speak to him, and he let her be, just kept an eye on her.

She could feel herself getting progressively worse each time she woke, cold and sweaty and shaking, and keeping herself from going into the other room and clinging on to him was getting harder and harder.

He finally put the laptop away, eyes red and head pounding from the bright screen. He stood, heading through into the kitchen to find something to eat. He made himself a sandwich, and after a moment's thought, made one for Harrison as well, leaving it on the coffee table next to her as he walked past, back into the bedroom.

When she strayed back into an unhappy consciousness for the millionth time, she opened her eyes to the sandwich. Grateful that she had something to occupy herself with, she reached out and started inhaling it.

He looked up from where he was slogging through paperwork, noticed she was getting food into her, and nodded just a little at that, taking a breath and returning his attention to the files. He wasn't the one who was going to break first in the silence game. It was his forte.

She finished it and then turned the television on, looking for something easy on the eyes and ears. She didn't look towards the bedroom.

He finally walked out into the main room to put his dish in the sink. He dead bolted the door with his thumbprint, which could only be overridden by medical personnel, and then headed into the bedroom, shutting the door most- but not all- of the way as he changed into pajamas. He was exhausted.

She stayed on the sofa for a few minutes and then couldn't take it anymore, getting up and slinking into the bedroom. She crawled into bed without a word, and curled up next to him.

He put an arm around her waist without a word, pulling her against his chest and tucking the blankets up around them both. He was asleep almost instantly.

She passed out soon after he did, and had pleasant, carefree dreams. A pleasant surprise.

When he woke the next morning, it was to a text from Jim.

Vacation approved. One month, beginning one month from today. -JM

A month later and they were stepping off the plane into the humid Indian air. Lorna put her sunglasses on, squinting against the light, and took Sebastian's hand. At least the private jet hadn't been commandeered. "I've never been to India before. I look forward to the food. Let's go get some, I'm starved."

He gripped her hand, nodding as he put his own sunglasses in place, starting to walk towards the car that was waiting for them. "Sounds good to me. I've been once or twice, but it was always on business. In and out, no relaxation time." He kept his eyes on the air field surrounding them. It was a large open space- one of his least favorite types of spaces, and in unfamiliar territory. As much as this would be a vacation, it was also going to tax him slightly. There would be a lot of crowded streets. He was going to be constantly on alert. "I'm looking forward to the pickpockets, though. Breaking fingers was one of my favorite pass-times the last time I was here."

"I guess I'll make sure to keep my hands to myself," she chuckled, glancing at the driver waiting by the car, just cataloging his face. It was a habit these days to make note of potential threats. She was still a little twitchy, and still very thin. "Christ, we're actually taking a vacation. Us. It's surreal."

"I know," he snorted, rolling his eyes. The driver opened the door, and after a quick but thorough glance at the man's credentials and a look at the car, he climbed inside. "It's going to be an interesting month."

"I'm sure I'll be spending a lot of it in our hotel room, eating mango and complaining about my scrubbed-raw skin," she shrugged, settling into the car next to him and closing the door. "So you can worry about a smaller secure perimeter."

It was strange how well she knew him. "Well, hopefully you won't be too sore," he said with a smirk, dropping her hand and sliding it around her waist instead. "Because I intend to take advantage of your sensitive skin."

"You better not leave any new scars on me," she chuckled, shifting closer to him. "And we probably shouldn't disgust the driver."

"What else am I paying him for? Driving? I can drive," he snorted, leaning over to kiss her neck.

"Not drive and kiss me," she smirked, sliding a hand down his thigh. "You know, we were just on a private airplane."

"I know I can't drive and kiss you, that is why I'm paying him, " he muttered, lips brushing her neck. "And your point being?"

"That we could have fucked on an airplane, and instead you want to make out with me in the back of a car," she laughed, jerking a thumb towards the plane retreating in the rear view menu.

"On the contrary," he smiled, leaning back. "I want to fuck you in the hotel. This is just a means to an end."

"Ah, well, this is entirely different, then," she grinned, pulling him back in by the front of his shirt until they were inches apart.

"Now you're seeing things my way," he agreed, the hand around her waist dipping to squeeze her arse playfully.

She smirked, shifting across the seat and moving to straddle him. "You're lucky I'm this conveniently sized, or this wouldn't work."

"True. I am definitely not conveniently sized," he smirked, arms wrapping around her waist, one hand lifting the back of her skirt and sliding beneath. "You're not wearing a seat belt..."

"Guess you should keep a tight grip on me then," she murmured, brushing her lips over his.

"I think I can handle that," he smirked, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh, kissing her slowly.

She hummed contentedly, willing to take it slow for once while in the cab. For once, the job was far away. A month to themselves. There was no rush.

He wasn't in any rush either, enjoying her lazily, if just a touch distractedly, part of him still keeping mind of the turns their driver was taking, and the goings-on outside.

"Any particular places you wanted to fuck me? Any landmarks?" she murmured, smirking a little, fingers brushing along his collarbone.

"You know, I've always liked the idea of fucking someone in the Ganges..." he murmured, lips quirking. "Something about disrupting the purity amuses me."

She groaned, digging her fingers into his chest. "Now you have to fuck me in the Ganges, you know."

He put his hands over hers on his chest, pushing her nails into him more firmly until he felt them break skin, smiling more fully. "I look forward to it."

"We should do that before I get my skin rubbed raw, I don't want an infection from the water," she chuckled, smoothing down his shirt.

"How does tomorrow sound?" he asked into her collarbone, still exploring it lazily down the dip of her shirt line.

"Tomorrow sounds excellent, in fact," she murmured, glancing out the window as they stopped outside a hotel.

"Brilliant," he murmured, kissing her clavicle slowly before sitting back and pushing her gently off of his lap. "Come on, we've got a room to break in."

"Yes we do," she grinned, and exited the car. This was the first time they'd had a hotel room together since Italy, years ago. It was astonishing, how far they'd come since then.

He grabbed their bags, slinging them over his shoulder, and smiled at her, reaching out to take her hand as they walked towards the hotel. He was looking forward to the next month. He had little doubt that by the end he'd be stir-crazy, chomping at the bit to get back to work, but that was exactly what was needed.

Her heart did a funny little jump in her chest as he took her hand. It was a rare occurrence when he reached out and initiated PDA while off-duty. "How is this hotel, by the way? Room service? Oooh, do we have a suite? I've always wanted a suite. You know, not to fuck a stranger in."

"Harrison, I'm a man with a ridiculously unreasonable salary, who hasn't taken a vacation in almost a decade, bringing his-" he paused momentarily, unsure of what to call her, her ring clipping into his hand slightly and reminding him of his own, and the oddity of the situation. He slid past it smoothly. "Bringing you on a trip as a christmas present. How do you think the hotel is?"

She chuckled, squeezing his hand a little as they reached the hotel doors. "I don't know, I wouldn't put it past you to be willing to rough it for a month. Then again, considering your interior decorating skills..."

"Being able and willing to rough it and wanting to rough it are very different animals," he pointed out with a small smirk. He nodded to the doorman, ignoring the valets offer to take their bags, and walked her inside.

The atrium was a large, multi-story circular space, stretching high to a glass ceiling overhead. The walls were actually a long ramp, spiraling around and around itself, beautifully constructed of stone and bronze, along which were floor-to-ceiling windows leading into the hotel rooms, some with drapes drawn, others open to reveal beautiful rooms. The atrium itself was an indoor garden, with jungle trees and flowers flowing everywhere in a natural-feeling arrangement. The main pathway through followed an indoor river, bubbling along lazily over a bed of colorful stones and broken bits of intricate mosaics.

She whistled, eyebrows raised. "Impressive. If the food is anything like the architecture I don't know if I'm ever going to want to leave."

He laughed. "We'll both be bored after a month. But for the time being, it should be excellent." He headed for the front desk, checking them in with a few quiet words and passing her one of their room keys.

She slid the key into her pocket without looking, eyes still on the atrium. "I'm almost surprised they don't have any birds in here, honestly. Some have got to get in, don't they?"

"I think they do," he said, pointing to a tree where a small parakeet was considering them out of one eye curiously.

"Alright, Hawkeye," she chuckled, "I see I've immediately been proven blind. Let's go take in our room."

He grinned, heading for the elevator, which ran up a glass shaft near one edge of the room, meeting with each floor as the ramp passed.

"This is a very well thought out building," she mused absently, letting him tow her along by the hand.

He nodded in agreement. "It is at that. Let's hope our room is as impressive."

"Although maybe without the birds," she added in a murmur, watching the floor drop away.

He laughed, then quieted, part of him absently noting that this place was a virtual playground for a sniper.

They exited on their floor, which was only a few from the top, and he walked over to the balcony, looking out for a moment over the garden. It extended even this far up, creeping vines roaming occasionally over railings, blooming colorfully. Then he turned and started walking along the carved wooden doors alternating with the windows, looking for their room.

"This place hardly seems real, does it?" She mused, trailing along after him like a balloon being tugged the other way by a breeze. "Very fantastical."

He nodded a little. "Like a video game or some shit," he agreed, finally stopping in front of their room and swiping the keycard, opening the door and stepping inside.

The suite was beyond impressive, even considering his refined taste, and he let out a low whistle at the large central room, tastefully designed with an open interior. A set of double doors opened onto a bedroom with a king-sized bed, and on the balcony that could be seen through the large windows there was a jacuzzi and deck chairs. A few other doors led to a kitchen and an office area.

"Well holy shit," she laughed, closing the door behind her and putting her hands on her hips, surveying the room. "So many places to fuck."

He nodded in agreement, walking into the bedroom and setting their bags on the bed. "And only thirty days in which to do it. We'll have to be persistent," he said with a laugh.

"Oh, I know us, we won't even break a sweat," she snickered, following him into the bedroom and flopping onto the bed.

He nodded, walking around to where she was lying and reaching out to slide a hand from her ankle up along her leg. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong," he said, hand slipping under her skirt; fingers pushing her knickers aside and brushing over her slick folds. "But I believe I was working you up."

She bit her lip, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. "No, I believe you're right."

He smiled slowly, his free hand planting next to her on the bed as he stood over her, eyes on hers as he slid his fingers into her, curling slowly. "Well good, I'm glad I didn't lose my place."

She audibly inhaled, reaching her hand to grasp his wrist, fingers tight on him. "You're good at keeping up."

He leaned over her further, face a few inches from hers as he moved his fingers slowly, just edging her on. He watched her expression tense and melt with his fingers, the sensations rippling visibly along her muscles even under her clothes. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathed.

She reached up to drag him down by the collar, kissing him solidly, her breath coming harder. She loved it when he called her that. Every compliment from him was worth millions.

He kissed her back, his tongue following the rhythm of his fingers as it tangled with hers. The grip she had on his collar sent shivers down his spine, and he smiled into the kiss.

"You know," she breathed, her thumb brushing against his neck, "this is the first time we've had a hotel room together since Italy?"

"Is that so?" he asked, his thumb seeking out her clit and brushing against it. "Well, then, it seems we're long overdue to be doing this again."

"Way to state the obvious," she smirked, although she wasn't being extremely cool, considering she was practically trembling under his hand.

"Well, if I'm being too obvious," he said, withdrawing his hand from her knickers with a smirk.

"No, no, that's absolutely not what I meant," she backtracked, grabbing his wrist, shaking her head. "Don't be unreasonable."

"Oh, now I'm obvious and unreasonable," he sighed. "You know, I'm just not feeling very appreciated..." The hand on the bed shifted over to close over her throat, getting a sturdy grip to direct her jaw with his thumb and fingers. He forced her to look at him, tilting her head back a little, movements taking a darker turn though they were still playful. "You know what I mean?" His fingers played with the edge of her panties along her thigh.

She scowled at him, deciding not to cave so easily, especially when she really wouldn't mind if he squeezed a little harder. "No, I don't think I do..."

His eyes glinted at that, glad she'd taken his invitation to take this up a notch. He saw the way she almost pressed her throat into his hand, and tightened his grip a little, hand drifting down her thigh. "I see. Well, if you don't understand then perhaps I'll have to teach you."

"I guess you'll have to," she agreed stubbornly, eyes locked onto his, clear with her challenge. "If you can, that is."

He shrugged. "You make a fair point. You might just be a terrible student. I suppose we'll find out," he said, his grip on her neck actually compressing her airway for just a moment, a threat, before he hauled her up towards the head of the bed, dropping her neck in favor of grabbing her hands, and after looking around for a moment, grabbing a length of tassel-rope from the bed curtain and using it to tie her wrists to the bedpost.

She didn't resist, just let herself be bound with a small smirk on her face. "After all these years of threatening to tie me up, and you finally get around to it - I'm proud of you."

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly in response, though the majority of his expression remained stony. "I've tied you up before," he said, almost certain that he had. Hadn't he? He left her hands once they were secured tightly (though he'd left himself a way to untie her almost instantaneously if he needed to) and moved to her dress, which was still very much in his way. "How much do you like this one?" he asked, fingering the material.

"As if my answer matters?" She raised an eyebrow, remembering that in the old days he'd destroyed what clothes he'd felt like destroying, and never bothered to apologize. She liked this more.

He smirked a little, hands on the hem tightening and pulling until the skirt ripped upward. It stopped at the waist of the dress for a second, but another tug started it up again. He grabbed a knife from his pocket and cut the sleeves open, pulling the dress off of her with a grin. "I'll buy you a new one," he said as he tossed it aside.

"Mm, you do have that outrageous salary you mentioned earlier. Has it ever occurred to you I'm just in it for the money? Maybe I'm a gold digger," she smirked, eyes appreciatively taking in the way his arms flexed as he tore the fabric open.

"You're terrible at it, if you are," he smirked, bending down to brush his lips over her breast. "Look at me, young and healthy. Aren't gold diggers supposed to marry the elderly and soon-to-keel-over?" He slid his tongue over her skin slowly, hot and rough against soft and cool.

"I guess you're just my sugar daddy," she amended, grinning, subtly testing the bindings, wondering if she could break out of it later, when she wanted to.

"I guess I am," he conceded, hand slipping down between her legs again, giving her minimal contact, just brushes here and there, just enough to keep her wanting more. "But you've been quite confrontational. I'm not sure if I should keep giving you what you want..."

"Except you want the same thing that I do," she murmured, eyes dark on his. She wanted to touch him, too, but that was a side desire.

"You make an awful lot of assumptions," he muttered, dipping to scrape his teeth over her collarbone, fingers dipping into her entrance. His free hand, however, found the buckle of his belt, starting to undo it.

She made a quiet, pleased noise, shifting her hips impatiently. "You wouldn't like me so much if I was quiet, would you?"

He pushed his fingers further into her, pushing off his trousers and stepping out of them, followed by his boxers. "No, I suppose not," he agreed, softly. "But you're not making a very good case for yourself at the moment."

"Case? What case would that be?" She snorted, though it was clear by the width of her pupils and the color in her cheeks that she was very much not as cool as she was pretending to be.

"The case for why I shouldn't just torment you for an hour or two," he said cheerfully. "I mean, I enjoy it either way. Fucking you is nice, but watching you writhe under my fingers... Now that is art."

"I'm still weak and malnourished, and that would be a frivolous waste of my energy," she pointed out, eyes running down his form in appreciation. He looked good from every angle, she swore it.

"And if I feel like frivolity?" he asked, though he pushed his fingers deeper into her, curling and pressing at all the right places.

"There's no way I'll have the energy to fuck you in the Ganges tomorrow," she got out, though a lot breathier than usual, wrists pulling at her bonds a little.

He sighed dramatically. "See, there's your case," he muttered, leaning forward to kiss her firmly again and removing his fingers, kneeling up onto the bed next to her.

She bit back a displeased noise as he withdrew, immediately seeing that it was in favor of getting far closer to her, which she immensely approved of, and kissed him back hard, using her tied hands as leverage to lean closer to him.

He leaned into her, grinding his hips against hers as they arched up to meet his and smiling as he pushed her legs up towards her chest.

She let him manipulate her as he pleased, impatient for him to get on with it, touch her like she wanted again, and she bit his lip to let him know.

He didn't mess around any longer, even he was growing impatient. He nipped back playfully before finally pushing into her, letting out a shaky breath of relief as she surrounded him.

"Finally," she groaned, head falling back in relief, shifting her hips to try and hurry him along.

"So impatient," he chided, pushing her legs a little closer to her chest and groaning as she tightened further around him, starting to rock his hips slowly.

"You'd be too if I'd gotten a chance to tease you like that," she breathed, moving up to kiss him.

"Should try that some time," he commented against her lips, finding a fluid rhythm of movement.

"I have, you just usually beat me to the punch," she murmured, biting her lip as he got a rhythm going.

"I'm just too quick for you, is that it?" he teased, tongue tracing along her jawline.

"Quicker than anyone else I've ever met, that's for sure," she chuckled, tilting her jaw for him.

"I think I may just have been insulted," he snorted, releasing her legs after a moment and shifting them around his hips so that he could support his weight with both arms.

"You wanted me to tease you, I'm teasing you," she smirked, rolling her hips under him.

"Oh, very clever," he muttered into the crook of her neck, resettling his weight before reaching up to trace a finger along the inside of her arm.

"I know I am," she hummed, goosebumps breaking out in the wake of his finger. A few years ago, having a lazy conversation like this during a fuck where he wasn't trying to bruise her would have been impossible.

He slid his hand back up her arm, absently undoing the tasseled rope and letting her hands free. "Well, then," he said, pulling back to look at her. "Aren't I lucky to have such a clever woman in my bed?"

"I don't think luck has anything to do with it," she murmured, shaking the rope off and sliding her hands along his arms, fingers tracing along the lines of his musculature. "Lots of patience, maybe."

"Mmm... Lots of patience," he agreed, shifting his knees under him to gain a bit more leverage.

She groaned as the angle changed, arching up beneath him a little bit, her hands running down his sides. "I'd.. I'd say it's worth it, though."

He shivered slightly under her touch, smiling as she arched up into him. He bent to kiss the side of her neck as he sped up his movements a little, still taking his time in a way he didn't usually.

She grabbed him a little harder as she started to get closer, breaths coming faster. "Have I.. told you how in love with you I am lately?"

He raised his head just enough to meet her gaze, his breath short, pupils blown wide. "Not that I recall, but I think it's assumed at this point."

"Don't get cocky," she breathed, fingers gripping hard on his skin. "Fuck, I'm close."

He was, too, leaning forward to press his lips against her ear as he finally began to move with a bit more energy, eager to find the edge and bring her with him. He was suddenly almost overwhelmed with how much she meant to him, in so many ways. It was an odd moment- piercing, disarming- and perhaps that was why he whispered "I love you, too," breathlessly into her ear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pushed her over the edge, muffling a soft cry into his shoulder, her chest clenching at his words. What would she do if something ever happened to him?

He came shortly after, not in the usual fiery onslaught but rather quietly, a growing warmth that flooded over him in waves. He gradually stilled, catching his breath, forehead pressed against her temple.

She shut her eyes as she caught her breath, to hide the fact they were prickling with tears. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so emotional, but she wasn't about to show it when she couldn't explain it.

He eventually shifted off to the side just enough to clear his weight from her, still on his stomach, an arm thrown over her and his face brushing the side of her head, eyes closed as well.

She curled into him, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to take her ring off, and the fact that he hadn't taken his off either was telling. She was happy with this, with them, and that wasn't something she could never have said before in her life.

They lay in silence for a while, before he smiled and said, "I declare this bed christened."

"That's not the word I'd use, but I suppose it's good enough," she chuckled, getting control of herself again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he smirked. "It's the perfect word."

"We are the least holy people I know," she laughed, moving to rest her head on his broad shoulder, fingers tracing idly over the scars on his abdomen.

He twitched just slightly as she hit a ticklish spot. "To the mainstream religions, maybe. But there has to be someone out there worshiping sex, murder, and deception."

"Who, Satanists?" She laughed, subtly pursuing that spot on his stomach that had made him twitch.

"Oi!" he snorted, grabbing her hand. "And no, they're all about peace and human equality or something boring like that."

"Agh, whatever," she sighed, entwining her fingers with his. "I'll take your word that someone worships it."

"If not, we'll make our own," he decided. "We can call it Fuckillism."

"Alright, sure," she chuckled, shrugging just a little. "I don't know if we really have the time for religion, though."

He laughed at that. "I suppose we'll just have to keep being heathens, then. But if we die and the great demon lord of Fuckill Valhalla is pissed, I blame you."

"Please, we're basically holy idols in this fake religion," she scoffed, "Nobody in that valhalla would be pissed at us."

"A valhalla of murders," he sighed. "Sounds like a decent horror movie plot."

"Mm, I think it'd be better done as a drama," she chuckled, smirking to herself. "I mean, there's got to be some shenanigans happening up in evil Valhalla."

He nodded a little at that, lapsing into silence, his fingers playing absently with her much smaller hand. He toyed with the ring on her finger for a while before registering what it was, and snorted. "You still got this damn thing on?" he asked, amused.

She shrugged, smiling a little. "Nobody keeps track of the rings in the ring box. I like it, I'm keeping it. And it amuses me that half the staff thinks we secretly got married in Fiji. And you still have yours on, or didn't you notice?"

"Bugger off," he snorted. "You've got dozens of rings, at least, and I've got one I like. I get to keep mine, you can find your own."

"I do not have dozens of rings, I'm very picky about what rings I wear," she protested, shifting a little so she could frown at him. "Why can't I wear this one?"

He mulled that over for a moment, before he shrugged with the shoulder that wasn't under her head. "No reason you can't. I'm just keeping mine."

"Mmhm, that's what I thought," she snorted, rolling her eyes a little.

He smirked, tickling her side slightly with the hand that was around her. "Don't you sass me."

She squeaked, wriggling away from him. "Don't tickle me, and maybe we can work something out."

"Oh, you're a ruthless negotiator," he muttered, rolling his eyes and tickling her side once more for good measure before subsiding.

She grumbled, looking mildly sullen at him. "You're way bigger than me, it's not fair."

"You aren't looking for an apology, right? Because that might be concerning," he said, smirking.

"God, no," she chuckled, smirking and nestling into him a little. "I'm quite fond of feeling like you could crush me."

"Oh, good. Odd, but I'll take it," he smirked.

"You never dislike people calling you threatening," she laughed.

"I know, but normally they don't like feeling threatened," he retorted, smiling.

"I didn't used to like it so much; I suppose it was just kind of thrilling at first," she chuckled, "The danger, and all that. Christ, it was like flirting with death."

"Flatterer," he muttered, though he was grinning contentedly.

She snorted. "Considering how often you threatened to kill me or drew a weapon on me, I don't think I'm stretching the truth, do you?"

He thought on that for a moment, before nodding slowly, his hand raising absently to trace over the now-familiar scar on her neck. "I suppose you aren't."

She'd almost forgotten about that particular scar. She'd gotten so many cuts and burns since then it didn't seem like so much of big deal. She shoved the thought of the beasts in the labyrinth out of her head.

He saw her eyebrows furrow, and was quietly caught up in the way he hated when that happened. "You're beautiful," he said quietly.

She blushed before she could catch herself, and buried her face in his chest. She was nowhere close to recovered from that eternity in the mazes, not after a damn month and a quarter, and yet he still thought that. "Thank you."

He shrugged a bit, holding her close, safe. He closed his eyes, grip on her firm, unwilling to let her go.

There wasn't anyone else in the world she would rather have a month, a week, even a day with without any worries or cares. "I think there was a time when you wouldn't have let me keep this ring. And you wouldn't have kept yours."

That toed a line he had kept distance from, and he stiffened just slightly. "I told you, I just like it. Besides, when have I ever cared what you wear?"

She snorted a little. "You know exactly what I meant, Sebastian. But if you don't want to talk about it, I won't push it. Forget it."

He sighed. "I just don't see why we need to. It's problematic enough without actually discussing the situation."

"I said forget it, didn't I?" She sighed, mentally noting the new placement of the boundary line.

"Which means you're annoyed," he pointed out, though he didn't push it further.

She smirked a little. "I'm malnourished, it's easy to do," she pointed out.

"Alright, well, let me present my cunning plan," he suggested, matching her smirk. "You and I get cleaned up and go hunt down some mom-and-pop place with amazing authentic Indian food and gorge ourselves."

She chuckled and nodded, sitting up and sliding to the edge of the bed. "Alright, let's go then," she agreed. "Let's see if we can make me cry from spice."

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner
Breathin' in your dust
I wanna be your Ford Cortina
I will never rust
If you like your coffee hot
Let me be your coffee pot
You call the shots, babe
I just wanna be yours

Secrets I have held in my heart
Are harder to hide than I thought
Maybe I just wanna be yours
I wanna be yours

- Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours -

When you move
I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be
When you move
I could never define all that you are to me

So move me, baby
Shake like the bough of a willow tree
You do it naturally
Move me, baby

- Hozier - Movement -

Remember, the playlist is on my profile if you want to experience the whole thing!