"Oh flesh of my flesh! What mischief has consumed you now?"
Jareth looked in curiosity at the Sarah shaped lump rolling around on his bedroom floor.
"Mmmmhm!" Sarah managed to mumble, but not really in his direction. She appeared thoroughly engrossed in whatever it was she had entangled herself in.
"What is that green fuzzy orb you've got lodged under your thigh?"
"Old tennis ball. My own personal physical therapist and massage artist rolled into one."
Her response made him squirm slightly. What an odd thing for her to say!
"Don't think I would have ever let one of your Goblins given me a rub down..." she responded in tart defensiveness, as if she sensed the scandal going on in her king's belabored sense of personal propriety.
"Thank God for that," he uttered decisively, fingers pressed into a knotted forehead. He wasn't planning on telling her, but he actually thought the ridiculous way she was flopping on the floor with her therapeutic instrument rendered his queen mind-bogglingly cute.