"Hey, Granny?" said Ororon quite suddenly, "Are you mad at Gramps?"
"No. Why?"
"I heard you two fighting."
Citlali quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Fighting? Sure, she could be cross with Aether sometimes, but they didn't fight. Unless, she got drunk and forgot all about it. Oh dear.
Citlali shifted around to look at Ororon.
"When was this?"
"Last night."
"I don't remember that. What happened?"
"I came over to drop off some vegetables the other night and heard you screaming. I peeked through the window, and you two were wrestling in bed. You kept saying, 'Aether, oh Aether, ram my brains out. Give me a baby, you beautiful bastard.' Are you trying to get pregnant already?"
Citlali went bright red. Ororon thumbed his chin, lost in deep thought. She cleared her throat and looked away.
"N-no. That was stuff said in… the heat of the moment."
"Oh, so the stork isn't bringing me a nephew?"
"No. Now, please change the subject."
"Can I wrestle with you and Gramps next time?"
"Absolutely not," she said.
"Oh, okay."