Alek's sitting on the sofa, reading, when Deryn comes in. Without a word, she sits beside him, swings her leg up into his lap, and settles back against the armrest.
He looks at her, eyebrow raised. "Something I might help you with?"
She gestures at her knee. "It's aching today."
It's always aching; she just rarely complains. He therefore puts his book aside and carefully kneads his fingers into the tired muscles and tendons around her knee.
She groans theatrically – in bliss. "I may have to marry you."
"You already did," he points out, and leans over, and kisses her.
