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.